


All I Want For Christmas Is You

by Crollalanza



Series: The Captain and his Vice [15]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Implied Relationships, M/M, Minor Haiba Lev/Yaku Morisuke, Off-screen Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 01:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2904806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His first year at University in Tokyo, and Daichi couldn't be happier. He's sharing a room with Suga, and a flat with Kuroo and Morisuke. But as December creeps in, he becomes aware that not all is right with his boyfriend. Something's obsessing Suga, and it's not just his determination to celebrate Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Deck the Halls

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic based around an advent challenge I set myself on tumblr. People set me prompts and pairings, and I'm very pleased that the majority were Daisuga :) I have strung them together to make one story which I hope you'll all enjoy, even if it's a little late.

_Christmas Tree_

Tokyo was cold that evening, colder than usual – even for winter – and as he stared out of the window, rubbing his hands along the radiator, Daichi was sure he’d wake in the morning to find frost along the window ledges.  He scowled at the dark sky and tapped his fingers impatiently as he waited.

“I gotta go somewhere after class,” Suga had said. “Be back by seven.”

It was now seven-thirty, and while he wasn’t worried, he was exasperated, because for the first time in weeks, their flatmates were out, and so the pair of them had the place to themselves. But then Suga had been in an odd mood recently, somehow sad, so maybe he needed a little time out.  He reached for his phone, but just as he flipped open the case, it rang.

“Suga?”

The voice on the other end didn’t sound sad, but breathless.“I’m outside. Can you come down?”

“What’s the matter?  Are you hurt?”

“No, not at all. Just ... uh ... got my hands full.”

With the lift on a go slow, he pounded down the three flights of stairs, coming to a screeching halt in the hallway. Through the glass panel, he could see Suga’s outline. And something else. Someone was standing next to Suga, someone taller looming over him.

Someone ... or something.

“What the fu-” he gasped as he wrenched open the door. “Suga, why the hell are you holding a tree?”

“It’s a Christmas tree,” Suga said, as if that explained everything.

“Er, oh-kay. I hate to break this to you, Sug, but since when have we celebrated Christmas?”

Suga shuffled over the threshold, dragging the tree with him and with his free hand flicked Daichi’s nose. There was a smudge of dirt on his cheeks, and his nose was red with cold, but his eyes sparkled with excitement.  He gave Daichi a wink and the sort of a smile that lit Daichi from within. He groaned, knowing that whatever Suga was about to suggest, he was powerless to resist.

“Since now, Dai. This is going to be our first Christmas together. So, help me with this, and then we can decorate.”

“Lifts aren’t working, so we’ll have to lug this bloody thing up the stairs,” Daichi grumbled as he grabbed the trunk. It was taller than the pair of them, and the branches were far from uniform, one sticking out to the right and another on the left crooked.

“Really?” Suga nudged the lift button as he walked past and immediately the doors opened.

“Why does that always happen for you?”

Laughing, Suga guided the tree inside, then together they propped it up against the lift wall. “I’m lucky, I guess,” he murmured as the lift doors closed.

Daichi leant towards him, removing the pine needles in Suga’s hair, and very gently pressed his lips onto his brow. _No, I’m the lucky one,_ he thought, _despite your crazy ideas._ “Okay, so where’s this tree going?”

“Well, it’s not going to fit in our bedroom, so it’ll have to be the lounge.”

“Uh ... maybe we need to ask the others about that. They might object to a –”

“Pfft!” Suga waved his hand in the air, and gave Daichi a lopsided grin. “Who’s going to object to Christmas, Daichi? After it’s up and decorated, they’re going to love it!”

Daichi raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. It was good to see Suga so enthusiastic, smiling like he used to, because for the past few weeks, he’d been preoccupied. When asked about it, he’d shaken his head, and murmured that everything was fine, but Daichi had started to wonder if he’d been ... well ... not lying exactly ... but insecure. Or unsure about their life together at university.

But when Suga smiled like that, all Daichi’s concerns flew away, because he knew he was happy.

***

_First Star_

“Do we have to do this now?” he asked, once they’d erected the tree, planting it firmly in a bucket and wedging it in with bricks.

“Hmm?”

Daichi sighed, guessing that they did have to do it now as Suga had not looked up from the bag he was rooting around in, and was not paying him any attention.

He tried a different tack. “We have the flat to ourselves until at least eleven, and I was kinda hoping ...”

“Just a sec,” Suga murmured. “I want to ... no, it’s not in there.”  He looked up. “Sorry, you were saying.”

“Nothing. I’ll make a start on food.”

“Okay,” he replied cheerfully, and bent over to pick up the other bag on the floor.

He was wearing jeans, ordinary dark jeans, not designer, not a decent brand name, just the plain jeans Suga wore when he didn’t care about them getting dirty. Which as he’d just lugged a pine tree back to their flat, was a sensible item of clothing to wear.

So, they were plain jeans and nothing special, but when Suga bent over, his t-shirt rode up, ever so slightly, the denim pulled tight around his bum, and Daichi felt his throat constrict (and another part of his anatomy wasn’t behaving either).

“Where is it? Where is _it_?”Suga was muttering, and now he was shifting his weight between each foot, which caused his bum to jiggle.

Daichi gulped, and a faint squeak emanated from his larynx. Unable to stop, he reached over, placed a leisurely hand on Suga’s back, his fingers drifting to his waist. On his bare skin. The skin exposed by the gaping jeans and ruffled blue shirt.

He didn’t know what hit him. At the contact, Suga yelled, snapped straight up and slammed the back of his head straight into Daichi’s face.

“AGHH!”

“Daichi, don’t do that!” Suga laughed, but as he whipped around, holding something large and sparkling in his hand, the smile left his face. “Oh hell, you’re bleeding, I’m so, so sorry.”

“’M, fine,” Daichi said, tentatively touching his nose with his hand. He wiped away a small smear of blood, and grimaced.

“Sit,” Suga fussed, guiding him to the sofa. “I’ll get you a cold cloth, or a drink. _And_ a drink, I mean. Then I’ll start food. You take it easy. Just sit and-”

“Shut up,” Daichi murmured, and pulled Suga down on top of him. “Stop clucking over me.”

“You’re hurt,” Suga protested, but he made no attempt to move away. Instead, he edged along Daichi’s lap, and brushed his cheek with his fingers.

“I’ve received worse on court,” he muttered, trapping Suga’s hand in his. He kept eye contact. His mouth pressed into Suga’s palm, and enjoyed the look of expectation flickering on Suga’s face, his other hand crept under his shirt.

Then as Suga unfurled his free hand, the odd sparkling thing he’d dragged from the bag, dropped onto Daichi’s chest.  He picked it up, smiling bemusedly at the silvery object glittering in his hand.

“What is this, Suga?” he asked. “And why is it so important?”

Suga took it from him, and frowning furiously, started to straighten the tinsel entwined wires. “Uh... it’s a star,” he said finally, holding it up for inspection. “At least it was once, but it’s kind of got squashed. I ... um ... sorry, I know it’s awful, but I made it at Junior High in metalwork class, and ... um ... I thought we could put it at the top of the tree.” He smiled a little wanly. “I know I’m being a pain, but I wanted to get the tree done before the others got back. That way, they’ll appreciate it all the more.”

Daichi grinned up at him, and then stretching, kissed him on the lips. “They’re not back for ages, so let’s get on with the tree, and then we can relax.”

Suga kissed him back, once on the mouth, then whispered in his ear, “I’ve got a better idea. As I’ve just caused you to see stars in more ways than one ...” He dropped the wire star onto the carpet, and snuggled closer. “Let’s relax first, and decorate later ...”

 

_Mistletoe_

The tree was undecorated when their flatmates returned. The wire and tinsel star that Suga had kept since Junior High, had been placed safely on the windowsill, but apart from that, no move had been made to unpack the other decorations. For all his excitement and need to ‘Christmassify’ (as Daichi put it) the flat, Suga had been easily persuaded to forget about it for the evening.

After food, they lay together on the sofa, huddled up in a quilt and watching some dumb movie on television. Suga couldn’t follow the plot, distracted as he was by Daichi’s nearness, and the way his thumb would occasionally caress his stomach, in a way that could be construed as subconscious, except that Daichi kept smiling.

“Early night?” he suggested.

Suga shifted off the sofa, holding out his hands to Daichi. “Sounds good.”

But instead of moving with him to the door, when Daichi got to his feet, he draped his arms over Suga’s shoulders and stared into his eyes. “I lo-”

“Hi, honeys, I’m home!”

Daichi slumped onto Suga’s shoulder, laughing weakly at their flatmate’s impeccable timing. But then they should have known.

“Okay, what am I disturbing?”

“You’re early, Kuroo,” Daichi grumbled. “You said eleven.”

“I got bored, and I need my beauty sleep,” Kuroo retorted. He smirked at his reflection in the mirror, twisting some strands of hair into a spike. “I won’t disturb ya.” Then, he sniffed the air. “Any food left? Party food was ... uh ... non-existent.”

“I’ll get you some,” Suga said, disentangling himself from Daichi’s arms.

“Holy mother–fu... What the hell is that?” Suga heard Kuroo say.

“Christmas tree,” Daichi replied. “Suga’s idea. He wants to celebrate.”

“Well, ain’t that cute,” Kuroo replied, “and ... uh ... maybe I got somethin’ to help the Christmas spirit.”

“If you’ve got reindeer horns and a red nose, you can just get out of here and return to your boring party!”

“I’m hurt!” Kuroo protested. “Suga, come back here and punch your boyfriend, will ya?”

“I’m not above punching you, either,” Suga replied as he walked back in with a bowl of food for Kuroo.

Accepting the bowl, Kuroo sat in the middle of the sofa, grinning up at the pair of them. “I’ve got something that you might both like. And I’ve been told it’s Christmas related.” He paused, playing on the fact that he had their attention. “Apparently it’s the sort of thing couples want at Christmas.”

“Huh?”

“OH!” Suga’s face lit up. “You managed to get some.”

“When have I ever let you down, Sugawara-chan?” Kuroo replied, then as Suga coughed, he grimaced. “No, don’t answer that.”

Putting down his food, Kuroo reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, and brought out a sprig of a something green with white berries.

“Am I missing something?” Daichi asked, obviously bemused by the way Kuroo was laughing and Suga was now grinning.

“Not any more, lover-boy,” Kuroo replied, and getting to his feet, he held the green leafy twig over Daichi’s head.

“It’s mistletoe, Daichi,” Suga murmured, his mouth curving into a smile. “We’re supposed to kiss under it, okay?”

“Oh.” A smile twitched at Daichi’s lips, and reaching up he snatched the mistletoe out of Kuroo’s hand. “In that case, we’ll be taking it elsewhere,” he said, and without further thought, he pulled Suga towards the door. “Bye, Kuroo. See you in the morning!”

“Aw, guys, I’m dying of loneliness here,” Kuroo moaned. “Won’t ya stay up with me?”

As Daichi scowled, Suga smirked. Taking the mistletoe from Daichi’s hand, he stepped closer to Kuroo and held it above his head, then he whispered, “Ready?”

“Three, two, one!” finished Daichi and with a grin, he planted a kiss on Kuroo’s cheek at the exact same time Suga did on the other one.

“UGHH!” Kuroo yelped and staggered backwards. “Guys, no. Get a room!”

“Thought you were lonely?” Suga said, his eyes wide and innocent.

Kuroo shook his head and slumped back to the sofa. “Not that lonely. Take your mistletoe and leave me with the tree. I might even decorate it for ya.”

“Oh no, maybe we should-”

“Shut up,” Daichi ordered, and dragged Suga away. “I want to know more about Christmas traditions, Suga, starting with this mistletoe.”


	2. Candles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was 'candles'

It had been a particularly horrible day.  The professor for Daichi’s last lecture had arrived late, and had not let them leave on time. He’d then had to return a book to the library or incur a fine, and the queue had been long. Then the librarian had torn him off a strip for returning the book in an improper state. He’d tried to explain that the torn cover and dog-eared pages were not his fault as it had been like that when he’d taken the book home, but he couldn’t deny the coffee stain on the inside cover. (Even that wasn’t his fault. Suga had accidentally slopped his coffee on the table, and the spillage had engulfed the book that Daichi had left face down and open whilst he’d answered Kuroo’s question about volleyball practise.) Initially the librarian had refused to listen, wanting to charge him for a replacement, and it was only down to some persuasive talk, and remembering to smile, that she’d softened and let him leave.

So, he’d hurried out of the library to discover he’d missed the bus. Deciding a twenty-minute wait was too annoying, he walked, only for the weather to take a turn for the worse, and he was battling against rain pelting like needlepoints towards him. To cap it all, the lift in their building was broken again, and he had to trudge up the three flights of stairs, every muscle in his legs protesting.

What he wanted, as he finally limped to the door of the flat, was  a long soak in a hot bath, with a cup of hot chocolate and maybe Suga to scrub his back.

“No, I don’t like that one. Snuff it out.”

Ah, Morisuke was home, so there was no way Suga would join him in the bath.

“It was better than the winter rose,” Suga said.

“Hmm, that’s not saying much though. Try the festive pine again.”

“No, that smelt like cat’s pee. Besides we have a Christmas tree, so we don’t need any more pine-”

“Why did you buy it then?”

“Uh, well there was an offer, and –” Suga looked up and beamed a smile when Daichi appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Hi there. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Mmm, I can tell.” He looked around, taking in the chaos that appeared to have struck the kitchen. There were sheets of tissue paper strewn across the floor, and on the table were several coloured candles, some lit, some smoking, some still in their cellophane wrappers. “What are you doing?”

“We’re testing candles,” Suga replied, as if it were obvious.

“They burn. What else can you test them for?”

“The scent, silly,” Suga said. “Come on, I want your opinion.”

Stepping dubiously towards them, Daichi watched as Morisuke lit a brownish looking fat candle. Suga, meanwhile, had reached across for a deep red one, and was tipping its wick into the flame to set it alight.

“Inhale,” he told Daichi.

He sniffed. “Smells like fruit.”

“OOOH, good, yes it’s cranberry. Not bad, and very Christmassy. Try Morisuke’s.”

“Um... cinnamon or something?”

“Yeah, cinnamon and vanilla,” Morisuke replied, then quickly blew it out. “It’s a bit overpowering.”

“This whole room is overpowering,” Daichi grumbled. “Any chance of chocolate?”

Suga reached across the table, picking up a candle of pale ivory. “This one’s white chocolate. We tried it earlier, but it’s too sickly.”

“I meant _real_ chocolate,” Daichi muttered. “I’m cold. I’ve had a rotten day, and all I want is to thaw out. Plus those bloody lifts aren’t working, and I swear I’ve pulled something in my thigh.”

“They were fine earlier,” Morisuke said.

Of course they were fine earlier. Daichi glowered. “Chocolate?”

“Ah, we don’t have any,” Suga said airily, not seeming to notice at all the mood Daichi was in. “Sorry, I meant to buy more, but got distracted by these. They were on special offer, so I didn’t spend too much money.”  He smiled at him. “Come and join us. Some of this scents are supposed to be very soothing.”

But Daichi turned away, refusing to get drawn into their excitement.  “Forget it. I’ll have a bath instead.”

Blowing out the cranberry scented candle, and placing it back on the table, Suga loped towards him and squeezed his arm. “You sit down. I’ll run you a bath.”

But he didn’t want to be pacified, and the scent of the twelve or more candles Suga _and_ Morisuke had decided to test were mingling in the air, giving him the start of a headache. “I’ll do it,” he snapped, shaking him off. “And can one of you open a bloody window? It smells like a- like a whore’s boudoir in here!”

He heard Morisuke snort but left before Suga joined in. Maybe he was behaving unreasonably, but he was tired, cold and pissed off. The fact that the pair of them were no doubt testing more candles, and sharing a joke at his expense was getting to him more than he thought possible. At least in the bathroom, he could lock himself away and unwind in peace. He turned on the taps, added some bubble bath, and then after stripping off, immersed himself in the steaming water. Never one for taking it slow, he ducked under, enjoying the heat even though it stung his every pore, then emerged shaking the drips off his hair. Here he could relax, and not think of a thing. Here, library books, missed buses, sharp rain and obfuscating scents couldn’t touch him.

“Go away,” he said when there was a soft tap-tap at the door.

“Can we talk?”

“I’ve only just got in, Suga, I’m not bloody getting out, just so you can talk about candles, or Christmas trees, or whatever it is you need to tell me.”

“I’m sorry,” Suga said, and Daichi could hear him sighing. “I got a bit carried away. We’ve cleared up now.”

“Yeah, well.”

“Can I come in?” Suga asked.

Daichi considered. “Door’s not actually locked,” he admitted.

Sitting up slightly, he watched Suga creak the door open. He had, unsurprisingly, a candle in his hand, and as he walked in, he switched off the light, then placed the candle on the window ledge, where it cast its light around them, catching shadows and expressions.

“What scent is that one, then?” Daichi murmured.

“Um, it’s plain. There’s no scent,” Suga explained. “You didn’t seem to like the others.”

“Sorry,” Daichi mumbled. “I’ve had a bitch of a day.”

Suga sighed in sympathy and reached across, fluffing up Daichi’s damp hair. “Morisuke and I must have got used to it. Was the smell that bad?”

“Not really. It was just a little ... um ... overpowering.” He nuzzled Suga’s palm with his teeth, debating whether to ask him to get in the bath.

“’Whore’s boudoir’,” Suga snorted. “Where do you get such expressions, Dai?”

Daichi laughed. “It’s one of my mum’s. You know what she’s-”

And then he broke off, because Suga knew all-too-well what his mother was like. The candle flame flickered on the windowsill, and Suga removed his hand, smiling a little sadly.

“I expect she’d rather you were with a ‘whore’, wouldn’t she?” he said quietly.

“I don’t know, Suga, I really don’t know what she thinks anymore.” He grabbed Suga’s arm, drawing him closer. “You’re what’s important, Sug, you and me, okay?”

Suga nodded, and then he pressed his lips on Daichi’s, his hands pulling him closer. With foreheads touching, they both opened their eyes. “Is there room in there for me, or would you like to be by yourself?”

And although he knew this really wasn’t the time, that he should hold Suga some more, let him talk out the sadness, he squeezed him tight and stared into his honest, gentle eyes. “Thought you’d never ask,” he whispered, and with a little laugh flicked some bubbles onto his face.

On the windowsill, the candle flame burnt bright, no longer flickering, but both were too occupied to notice.

 


	3. Cooking up a Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt here was from an anon on tumblr and was 'broken plate, failure and mayonnaise'. I suspect the anon wanted angst, however I'ma fluffy daisuga girl to my marrow.
> 
> Oh, and in my universe, there's only one university in Tokyo, so naturally Oikawa's there, too ...

If Suga hadn’t been so keen, then Daichi would not have found himself in the store following his lecture buying up ingredients. No, he’d have gone straight back to the flat, grabbed some lunch and a drink, then started his essay. But to Suga, Christmas was important (Daichi had no real idea why as he’d never mentioned it before) and as Suga was important, he wanted to surprise him.

A nice surprise. Something Christmassy.

Which was why he was in the store buying ingredients for mince pies.

(“Oikawa!”

“Hmmm?”Their former rival, now fellow student looked up from the stack of notes he was making.

“You’ve been to England, haven’t you?” asked Daichi, trying to sound casual.

Oikawa went back to his notes. “I lived in London for a while when I was a younger, if that’s what you mean.”

“Uh ...  yeah. What Christmas type of food do they like to make?”

Sighing, he put down his pen. And although he looked irritated, Daichi had a feeling he quite liked sharing his knowledge. “They have roast turkey on Christmas Day, with roast potatoes, sprouts – which are vile – parsnips, bread sauce – very strange-  something they call stuffing and gravy.”

“That sounds ... um ... complicated. What about biscuits or cakes or something?”

“You’re very persistent, Sawamura. I am busy here, you know?”

“Yeah, sorry, just um ... I want an idea of something to make.”

“Mince pies, I suppose,” Oikawa said and teased the front of his hair to the side. “They’re popular. And custard.”

“What? What’s custard?”

“It’s a sauce, Sawamura.”  He stifled a yawn. “Look, I really am busy. Can’t you use the internet?”

“Okay, sorry, just ... uh ... one more thing?”

“Go ahead.”

“Are they nice?”

“I left there when I was seven, so I don’t really remember,” he replied dismissively. Then he paused and chewed on his pen.  “My mum liked them. At least she talks about her surprise at the mincemeat being spicy and –”

“Ah, okay.” Daichi smiled. Spicy- that was something Suga would love. “Thanks, Oikawa. You’ve been a great help.”

“Making them for Suga-san, are you?” cooed Oikawa and batted his eyelashes in an exaggerated parody.

“Uh ... Why do you say that?”

Oikawa laughed. “Because he’s been talking to me about Christmas, too. It means a lot to him, doesn’t it?”

“Oh... yeah, it does,” Daichi replied. For a  moment he felt this compulsion to stay, to ask Oikawa if he knew why Christmas mattered to Suga, but the thought that Oikawa might know and Daichi didn’t smacked of failure. He’d find out in his own time. Meanwhile, he had a clue about something he could cook.)

 

_Pie means pastry,_ he thought as he reached for a packet of flour, determined to do this properly.

Mincemeat ... well, that was easy enough, and spices, they had enough of them at home.  _Custard_ ...  Maybe he could skip that, or ... He squared his shoulders. No, he wasn’t cutting corners. Having quickly googled the word and discovered custard was a sauce made from milk, eggs and sugar, he added some to his basket, paid up, and left for home.

 

“Why are we doin’ this?” Kuroo asked.

“ _We_ are not,” Daichi muttered. “ _I’m_ making Suga mince pies. _You_ won’t stay out of the kitchen!”

“You need someone to assist,” Kuroo replied nonchalantly.

“No, I need an empty kitchen and no one yabbering at me.”

Kuroo crossed his hands over his heart. “I’m hurt, Sawamura, deeply hurt.”

Daichi, his hands covered in a sticky mess of flour, margarine and water, picked up the bowl. “Do you want this in your hair, Kuroo? ‘cause the mood I’m in, you’ll be picking pastry out of your bird’s nest for weeks to come.”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Kuroo laughed, but just as he got to the door, he turned back. “You need more flour, by the way.”

“You think!” Daichi yelled, as the glutinous mass dripped off his fingers.

“And your mincemeat-”

“GO AWAY!”

With a gurgle of a laugh, Kuroo ran, shutting the door firmly behind him. A few minutes later, Daichi heard music coming from his room, and allowed himself a moment to relax.

But no longer.

He had no idea this would be so hard. And also how strange. He knew the British did eat different types of food, but mince pies, which Oikawa had said were served with custard or cream, were a very strange combination.

Stirring the saucepan, he added the chopped apple and lemon zest, and took a sniff. He shook his head, wondering whether to abandon his efforts, but Suga wanted an authentic Christmas, and that’s why Daichi was currently in the kitchen, elbow deep in flour, and out of his depth, with smells of mincemeat and absolutely no idea how to make custard.

 

The pies were out of the oven when Daichi heard a key in the front door. Jumping to his feet, he grabbed a cloth and started to wipe down the surfaces. The flour stuck in the cloth, making a paste, so he rubbed harder, causing it to smear over the counter.

“We’re back!” Suga called out.

“Something smells ... um ... nice,” Morisuke said.

Daichi frowned, not knowing if Morisuke was taking the piss or not. He’d been in the kitchen for most of the afternoon so was used to the smell now, but Kuroo had been laughing when he came back in ostensibly to make a cup of coffee, but in reality to poke his nose into Daichi’s activities.

(And also, although he didn’t want to admit it, the sound of Suga laughing with Morisuke was starting to get to him. They got on well, which he knew was good, but ...)

“I’m in the kitchen, _Suga_ ,” he called out, and finishing his mopping up, picked up the sugar bowl.

_‘Lightly dust with icing sugar._ ’  The recipe had said. He presumed normal sugar would be okay, and tipped the bowl over the cooling pies.

“What _are_ you doing?”

“Cooking,” he said, and smiled proudly, because when he looked down at his mince pies, they looked, to his eyes, pretty damn good. He winked at Suga, his smile becoming wider, especially as Morisuke hadn’t followed him into the kitchen.  “Mince pies. For you.”

“Oh.” With an excited expression, Suga quickly flung off his bag and jacket, stashing them in the corner, and joined Daichi. “These look ...um ... Hey, they look good, Dai.”

“No need to sound _quite_ so surprised!” Daichi huffed, but he smiled again, when Suga wrapped his arms around his waist. “Try one?”

“Mmm, sure.” Suga reached across for one, then yelped when Daichi batted his hand away.

“They’re hot,” he explained. “And not quite finished. Mince pies, I’ve been told, should be served with custard.”

“And we have custard?”

“Uh huh.” He showed Suga the small pan on the hob, then frowned at the rather gloopy substance sticking to the bottom. “Might need more milk, but ... um ... we’ve run out.”

“So, what is cooking?” Morisuke said, wandering in. “Kuroo’s being infuriating and won’t tell me anything.”

“Yaks, you need a surprise once in a while,” Kuroo said, joining them all.

“Dai’s getting in the Christmassy mood, and has made us mince pies.”

_Made you, Suga, you,_ Daichi thought, and tried not to let his smile drop when Morisuke fetched four dishes.  But Suga’s smile, when Daichi placed a mince pie in each bowl, and dolloped a lump of custard on each, was worth Morisuke and Kuroo joining them.

“To Christmas,” Daichi said, spearing his mince pie with a spoon.

“To the chef,” Morisuke intoned, and scooped up some custard.

“Uh, yeah,” Kuroo murmured, his eyes lazily travelling over them all, resting on Daichi. “To the ... uh ... unexpected.”

“To my amazing boyfriend for making all of this,” Suga finished, and lifted the spoon to his mouth.  “I’m sure this is going to be wonder- OH MY GODS!” He spat out the pie. “Daichi, what’s in this?”

Alarmed, Daichi dropped his spoon. “Uh, mincemeat, spices, apple, lemon ... um, it can’t be too hot, Suga, not for you.”

“No, it’s ... not ... too hot ... it’s just ... um ...” He swallowed. “Sorry, it’s fine. Unusual, but fine.”

Morisuke stirred at his, letting the custard drop off his spoon. “What’s this?”

“Yeah, what is this?” Kuroo asked, his smile mocking.

“Custard. It’s a sauce.”

“Looks more like mayo,” Kuroo replied, and sticking out his tongue, he licked a bit off his spoon. “Tastes like it, too. Did you add the sugar?”

“Uh ...” Daichi’s eyes flicked up and down as he tried to remember. He’d beaten eggs into milk and added some flour to thicken as he stirred it all together.

And then the mincemeat had started to catch on the other pan, and he’d taken it off to fill the pies.

And totally forgotten about the sugar.

“Hell.”

“It’s okay,” Morisuke soothed, when the silence had become stickier than Daichi’s custard. “It does kind of go with the pie. Sort of.”

“In a way,” Suga agreed. He poked at his pie again, lifting the spoon to his eyelevel. “Um,  Dai ...”

“What?” he snapped.

“This filling is ... uh ...”

“Mincemeat, just as the recipe said. I even made it myself,” Daichi replied, his teeth gritted. “This is something they eat in Britain at Christmas. I thought you’d understand!”

“Ah ...” Suga smiled a little, a kindly smile (the sort of smile he used when he was trying to cajole, or encourage). “Daichi, the British are a bit ... uh ... strange and ... yes they do eat mince pies, but ...” He cleared his throat. “Mincemeat isn’t made with meat.”

“Uh ... what?”

“It’s not meat. It’s dried fruit. And the spices are –” Suga licked his lips. “Um, they use things like cinnamon and nutmeg and cloves. Not chilli powder-”

Kuroo had started to laugh, Morisuke was chuckling and he could tell Suga was trying his hardest not to giggle, but his mouth was wobbling and he kept hiding it behind his hands.

_Great!_ With a scowl, Daichi snatched the dishes from their hands. “I’ll clear away.”

“We’ll help,” Morisuke offered. “You’ve obviously been to a lot of trouble.”

“I’ll do it!”he snapped again, and turning swiftly he headed to the bin intent of disposing of all the food he’d spent all afternoon preparing, whilst dreaming of Suga’s impressed face when he’d seen what he’d done for him.  But now, all he had to show for his efforts were four bowls of unfinished food, three flatmates who were laughing at him, and a kitchen that looked as if a tornado had hit it.

“Uh, guys ... give us a minute, will you?” he heard Suga say, but Daichi was too annoyed, too frustrated, too angry to pay any attention. Vehemently scraping the bowls’ contents into the bin, he ignored Kuroo’s incessant laughter, and Morisuke’s attempt at smoothing things over, and dumped the dishes in the sink.

“Leave that for now.”

“No.”

“Hey ...” Suga crept up behind him, and planted a kiss on his neck. Then winding his arms around him, he rested his cheek on Daichi’s back. “It was a lovely thing to do.”

“It was a crappy thing to do. And don’t even dare try to say you liked them, because then I _will_ sock you one. They were shit.”

“Uh ... yeah, they were rather,” Suga admitted. “But that doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters!” Daichi said, trying to stop the frustration exploding from within.

But everything was combining now. Suga’s excitement for an occasion Daichi knew nothing about, the ease with which he formed friendships (not just Morisuke, but _Oikawa_ , too!) and Daichi’s palpable failure to even get this one small thing right, were churning inside him.

“It doesn’t,” Suga said, holding him closer. Daichi could feel him smiling, and that made it worse. His hand was gripping one of the dishes so hard his knuckles were white, and still Suga was there and close and murmuring praise for something that had been so far from right.

“IT DOES!” he yelled, then flinched because the dish in his hands had snapped in two.

“Okay.” Suga released him and stepped back. “Daichi, what’s wrong?”

“I cocked up, that’s what’s wrong, and it’s just a joke to you all.”

“It’s cooking,” Suga stated calmly. Then he sighed and ran his hands through his hair.  “Jeez, Daichi, if I had a yen for every time you lot have laughed over my attempts in the kitchen, I’d be able to buy my own place.”

“That’s not the same.”

“It’s exactly the same. I’m just not as uptight as you.”

“I’m not uptight! I’m ... I’m annoyed, okay. Not with you, or them, but with myself for not checking things properly.”

Suga exhaled, and leant back on the counter top. “You made the effort, Dai, and that really is the most important thing.”

“I wanted this to be perfect for you,” Daichi mumbled. He inched closer to Suga and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Because just making the effort doesn’t win matches.”

Suga punched him. “Dumbass!”

“Ow, what was that for?” he demanded, rubbing his chest.

“You being an idiot that thinks this is a match, and that I’m bothered by things being imperfect.”

“Uh ...”

Caressing Daichi’s lips with his thumb, Suga smiled up at him. “This is real life, Daichi, not a match, and making the effort means _everything_.”


	4. Christmas Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inspiration for this was a prompt from maychorian which was fireplace, but by now this fic has stopped being about prompt - ooops. And I know it's not Christmas anymore, but I was bussssyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

He’d raised his eyebrows at the tree, enjoyed the consequences of the mistletoe, smiled a little at the star, become exasperated with the candles, and had fucked up the mince pies. But, when it came down to it, Daichi was going along with Suga’s Christmas plans because ... because it was Suga, and for some reason it was important to him.

It was the morning of Christmas Eve, which today they’d no doubt spend in a frenzy of activity, despite neither having lectures for the day. Suga had mentioned something about crackers and eggnog, Daichi nodding his head in agreement, not for an easy life, but sometimes it was harder to stop _Suga’s_ train of thought than the Shinkansen. Still, there was plenty of time before they had move. The sun had barely risen, and was only now glinting through their bedroom blind.

He reached across the bed, curling his arm around Suga’s waist and shuffled closer.

“Mmmf.”

“Shh!” His hand splayed on Suga’s stomach, slipping under the t-shirt.

“Wassa time?”

“Early. Just relax.”

“Tired,” Suga muttered and yawned.

“I know.”

“ _Too_ tired,” he qualified.

“Yeah, I _know._ Just wanted a cuddle. Go back to sleep,” Daichi whispered, and although what he really wanted was to turn Suga around and kiss him on the mouth, he settled for a gentle brushing of his lips on the back of Suga’s head.

“You’re lovely,” murmured Suga. He wriggled a little, altering his position so his bum nestled snugly into Daichi’s lap.

_Gah, don’t do that._

“Control yourself, Dai. I can feel you, you know?”

“Pardon?” he said, trying to sound innocent as he cuddled even closer.

Suga twisted his face slightly, and although his eyes were closed, a smile hovered on his lips. “That’s either a chopstick down your shorts, or ...”

“Chopstick! Thanks a bunch.”

And then Suga giggled, and that sealed his fate because there was no way Daichi was going to let him sleep now. “Come here,” he said.

“No, no, too early,” he grumbled, but he turned to face Daichi and opened one eye. “Dammit, why d’you have to look so good in the mornings?”

Letting his lips start a trail from Suga’s temple down to his shoulder, while his hand began its achingly slow maze down the side of Suga’s body, he drew him even closer and whispered, “Natural talent, Koushi.”

Suga scowled and opened both eyes. “Don’t call me that, or I’ll knee you where it hurts.”  But then, with a small hitch of a sigh, he wrapped one leg around Daichi and tugged at his shirt. “Guess I should make the most of you.”

“Hmm?  Er ... what?”

“Nothing.” Shaking his head, Suga pulled off Daichi’s shirt, then his own, and manoeuvred on top. “I love feeling you against me,” he murmured. “Skin against skin. You’re so warm -” He broke off, and placed his mouth at the vee of Daichi’s chest, sliding his tongue downwards until he reached his stomach and a guttural groan escaped from Daichi’s throat. “– And _so_ responsive.”

He dragged his fingertips down Suga’s back, his hands slipping inside the waistband of his shorts to clench his arse.  And as Suga gasped, his lips parting, Daichi chuckled. “Not so unresponsive yourself, are you?”

***

Morisuke was tidying up when they made it out of bed.  And tidying furiously, a frown creasing his forehead as he wiped the surfaces in the kitchen, and dumped dirty plates in the sink. The radio wasn’t on, and neither was he listening to music, which was unusual because he liked to sing or hum along as he cleaned.

“Want a hand?” Suga asked.

“No. It’s all fine.” He sounded tetchy.

“Um, well, you don’t have to do all of this, Mori-san,” persisted Suga, with a smile on his face. “We’ll finish off when you’ve gone, if you want.”

Morisuke’s hand slowed, coming to a halt as he scoured a particularly dirty plate with stuck on food adorning it. “About that,” he said. “I ... um ... I’m not going home now.”

“You’re ... uh ... what?”

Morisuke’s eyes flickered to Daichi, a helpless type of smile on his face, then back to Suga. “I’m going to be here tomorrow and ... um ... Look, I’m really sorry about this, but Lev’s on his way and wants to stay for a few days ...”

“Lev.” Suga deadpanned.

“We’ll stay out of your way, I promise,” gabbled Morisuke. He was obviously trying to sound conciliatory, but nothing could stop the glimmer of happiness in his eyes. “I’ll show him around. But it’s ... he doesn’t get the chance to visit, and I couldn’t go back at all last month and he’s going to Russia for New Year, so ... Suga-“ He swallowed. “I’m sorry, all right.”

“It’s ... uh ...” Suga didn’t finish, instead he flicked the switch on the kettle. “Tea or coffee?”

“Hey, more the merrier,” Daichi said, not really understanding the problem. He smiled, feeling a little lighter than he had in days. “How’s Lev doing, anyway?”

“Oh, fine. Or rather the usual,” Morisuke said. “He’s miserable about school, and says practise is hard.” He stopped cleaning. “He sounded _so_ down and, well, I know he’s temperamental, but really, he’s usually so positive about everything, and now ...”

“Missing you?” Daichi suggested.

“Uh ... yeah ... so he says,” he muttered in reply and blushed.

“I made tea as you didn’t answer,” muttered Suga, and placed the mug on the table not gently enough to prevent the drink slopping over the sides.

Murmuring his thanks, Daichi took a seat. He sipped at the tea, not because he particularly wanted it that hot, but because it gave him a chance to study Suga, who, unaware he was being watched, was less guarded in his expression.

He’d thought Suga was annoyed, certainly something had upset his equilibrium from when they’d spilled out of bed, but he looked sad. Again.

A phone rang, and without a word, Suga patted his pocket and pulled out the phone. His eyes widened slightly when he saw the name, and then he answered the call.

“Asahi-san, what’s up?”

Daichi stopped drinking, putting his mug down on the table, listening intently.

“Uh-huh,” Suga continued. “No, that should be ...” His upper lip trembled, and then he half-smiled, resigned. “It’s absolutely fine. Might be a squash, but honestly we’d love to see you.  Do you want to speak to Daichi? Oh, okay, tomorrow at ten, then.”

“Asahi?”

“Yep.” Suga’s reply and lack of smile said it all. “He needs a place to stay. I said it was fine.”

“Uh ...it will be, won’t it?”

And then Suga closed his eyes. He packed the phone away in his pocket and took a huge breath. “Yes, of course.  I’m looking forward to seeing him. Sorry ... I need to ... um ... Morisuke, we should go shopping. There’s not much food in the fridge.”

“We have the basics and I’ll go out with Lev, so don’t worry about us, we’ll –”

“No.” Suga shook his head decisively. “It’s Christmas Day tomorrow, so how about we have a proper Christmas meal - like they do in England?”

“Roast turkey, you mean?” Daichi said, remembering his conversation with Oikawa.

“Hey, how did you know?” Suga asked, clearly delighted.

“Uh ... I might have looked it up, Sug,” Daichi replied, smirking. “But not sure we’ll get one in time, will we?”

“Probably not, but we’ll buy a big chicken instead.” His eyes alight, Suga ran out the kitchen. “Kuroo!”

“Go away,” a voice croaked back. “This is too early. I’m asleep.”

“Are you out tomorrow?” Suga persisted.

“Uh ...”

There was a heavy kind of thud from the room, and then the door creaked open and Kuroo, wrapped in a quilt, poked his head out. His face was pale, practically white, with red streaming eyes. His hair, overlarge and tangled at the best of times, was wilder than usual, and peeking out at him, Daichi could only assume he’d had an incredibly restless night.

“I know I said I would,” he rasped. “But I’m feeling like shit, so no.  I’ll keep out of your way and stay in my room. Okay?”

“That’s fine, I mean, no it’s not fine that you’re ill, but staying’s okay, too. We’re having Christmas dinner here, Kuroo, and you’re invited.”

“Ho ho ho,” muttered Kuroo sardonically. Catching Daichi’s eye he gave a grimace, and then sighed. “’K, Suga-san, whatever you say. Just, uh, let me die in peace, will ya?”

“Right,” Suga muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “Chicken, potatoes, what else?  What else? Hmmm ...” He glanced at Morisuke, who was still cleaning, then swivelled back to Daichi. “There’s a British store in the centre of Tokyo. If we leave now, then we can make it easily.”

Daichi shrugged, resisting the temptation to groan because as he had no lectures that day, he’d wanted to laze around on the sofa, or maybe even drag Suga back to bed.

“Hey!” Suga snapped his fingers in front of Daichi’s face. “Show some enthusiasm!”

“Yeah, yeah, let me have breakfast first, and then ...” He reached out and tugged Suga towards him. “And then I’ll be as enthusiastic as you want, Koushi!”

“Don’t call me-” Suga protested, but when Daichi pulled him down onto his lap and kissed him, he forgot to punch him.

The cloth that landed on his head was wet, smelt dank, and dusted his face with crumbs.

“Oi, get a room,” Morisuke complained. Then he chewed his lip, looking a touch nervous. “Uh ... Lev’s mum is dropping him off, so ... look, guys, I know it’s a horrible thing to ask, but can you ... uh ... tone it down a bit. She’s kind of ... um ...”

“In denial about her son and his boyfriend?” Suga opined, and levered himself off Daichi. “Come on, we’ll grab something on the way, and try not to be here when she turns up.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Morisuke called after him, and sighed wearily.  

Daichi felt a hand squeezing his shoulder. “Sorry, did I touch a nerve?” Morisuke whispered.

“Yeah, sort of. Although...” He sighed, knowing his next words would sound bitter. Morisuke and Kuroo knew something was off, but they’d never pried about the details. “My parents aren’t in denial about me, just coldly furious. And the thing is they blame Suga for everything.”

 

***

The bus across Tokyo was cold and crowded. Daichi stood with Suga, his arm clinging on to the strap hanging down, while Suga leant against him. It jolted on a pothole, and Suga stumbled, only saved from falling when Daichi clamped his free arm around his waist.

“You can let go,” Suga mumbled, when he’d righted himself.

“Don’t want to,” he whispered back. Then, in a slightly louder voice he said, “What’s the deal with Christmas, Sug?  Why d’you like it so much?”

“Oh ... um ... haven’t I told you? I had a Christmas in England once.”

“Um, you said you’d been there. You were eleven or something, yeah?”

Suga nodded and turned around to face Daichi, a smile lilting on his lips. “It was lovely. We were in Stratford on Avon, doing all the touristy things. They had a production of Twelfth Night on at the theatre. Stratford’s where Shakespeare was from, you see.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not a complete idiot.”

Suga giggled and smacked him on the arm.   “I know that. Anyway, we were staying in this hotel, which was cool, and kind of ... um ... quaint, I suppose. The hotel was covered in decorations; there were coloured lights in the streets and in the trees. Everywhere was _sparkling_ , and everyone’s spirits were really high.” He beamed up at Daichi. “Mum and Dad got really into the swing of it, and told us both about Father Christmas coming down the chimney to deliver presents to all the children.  I mean I was eleven so didn’t believe them, but Chiharu was only seven and so we kept the secret for her.”

“Sounds magical.”

“Yeah.” Suga breathed in. “That’s the word.  We sat down to this huge Christmas dinner, with ... Oh ... I wonder if we can find Christmas pudding ... hmmm ... maybe. Have to see how much money we have. ... Uh ... where was I? Oh, yes,” he grinned, “I didn’t think I’d ever want to eat again, but in the evening, we had turkey sandwiches and mince pies, and sat by an open fire with the other guests. It was ... amazing.”

“Sounds it,” Daichi muttered. And now his brain was working furiously because, dumbass that he was, he’d completely forgotten about presents. “Uh, is this our stop?”

“Mmmhmm,” Suga replied. “The store’s over the road.”

“Okay, you go on. I need to get some money out,” Daichi lied. “I’ll join you in a bit.”

Suspecting nothing, Suga waved him off and crossed the road, whilst Daichi, keeping up the pretence, headed towards the nearest cashpoint. But when Suga was out of sight, he picked up his phone and tapped out a number.

“Hey, Oikawa, it’s Sawamura,” he said. “I need some help.”

 


	5. Unwise Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nekoma's unwisest Middle Blocker appears ...

Having an extra person in the apartment was usually not a problem. It wasn’t a big place, but neither was it too cramped, and generally when Kenma visited, or Asahi (and on one occasion Bokuto had bowled up) the flatmates and their guests rubbed along fine.

And it wasn’t that Haiba Lev was a difficult person. He was friendly and well meaning (and laughably tactless) but the problem was that there was so much of him. It was mainly his legs, Daichi thought, which no matter where he sat (or how he sat) would get in the way.  And ‘Sorry, Sorry’ seemed to be his perpetual refrain.

“Sawamura-san!” he bowed as soon as he walked into their tiny lounge, almost upsetting the tray he was carrying. “Do you mind if I sit in here with you?”

Hurriedly getting to his feet, Daichi took the tray from Lev. “Uh, no, sit down, Lev-kun. You’re Morisuke’s guest, so make yourself at home.”

“Suke told me to make myself useful and not get under his feet. He’s making lunch now, and wanted me out of the kitchen. I don’t know why. I like cooking,” he huffed, and flopped down on the sofa. And then he started to smile, beaming across at Daichi. “You have a tree!  Oh, how pretty!”

“Suga’s idea,” Daichi muttered. He checked his phone again, waiting for Oikawa’s text. “He wants to celebrate Christmas.”

“We usually have one at home to celebrate New Year,” Lev said, and sighed. “Not this year though because we’re going to Russia instead.”

“Uh...” Daichi looked up from his phone, noticing Lev’s mouth was turning down, his usual smile gone. “Aren’t you happy about going on holiday?”

“Not really. None of my cousins speak Japanese, and I don’t know any Russian. I have a sister, and she speaks it well, so that always makes me feel stupid.”

“She’s probably had more experience speaking it,” Daichi said kindly. “You’ll catch up.”

“She’s younger,” Lev said abruptly. “She starts Nekoma in April.”

“Ah ...” Daichi bit his lip and searched his brain for something else to say. “Russian volleyball is strong, though. Maybe you’ll get to see a match. Or play.”

“Doubt it,” he muttered. And then he huffed out a sigh, and in that instant, his mood lightened. “The star on your tree is so funny. It’s wonky.”

“Uh ... yeah, don’t talk about it. Sugawara-san made it.”

“Gah, so many things I’m not allowed to talk about,” Lev said, and held up his hand, splaying out his long thin fingers. “Kuroo-san’s singing.”

Daichi grinned. “Well, that is bad.”

“Is it true he got banned from karaoke night at college?”

“Uh-huh. Though that was more because he wouldn’t leave the stage. And his dancing was a bit ... um ...” Daichi coughed, not sure if he should go into the details of Kuroo’s attempts at twerking.

“His coffee.”

“Also horrible. His tea’s worse, though.”

“The mince pies,” Lev continued. “Ha ha – I laughed at that one.”

Daichi whiplashed back to him. “Uh ... what?”

“Mince pies.” He clutched his stomach.  “When he made them with real meat and –“

“That wasn’t me. That was Sawamura.” Kuroo interrupted, shuffling in with his duvet wrapped around him. “Get up, Lev-kun - ya big noodle. I need to sit down.”

“Morisuke told you about that, did he?” Daichi asked mildly, and glanced across at Kuroo.

“Uh-huh, but ... um ...” Lev swallowed. “Please don’t tell him I told you. I’m not supposed to mention it.”

“That’s cool.” Kuroo flapped his hand, and then huddled back into his duvet. “Just ... uh ... don’t mention first day at volleyball practise to him, okay?”

“Huh?” Lev, now sprawled on the floor, leant towards Kuroo. “What happened? He said it was good.”

“Oh ... well ...” Daichi continued, after noting the glint in Kuroo’s eye. “We don’t talk about it, but ... uh ... they checked his college id very carefully because they were... um ... convinced he was a High Schooler.”

“Middle Schooler,” Kuroo corrected. “Must be his youthful looks.”

“Oh no, it’s because he’s little,” whispered Lev, conspiratorially. “He’s _so_ little, isn’t he.”

“Mmm,” Daichi replied. “But we don’t mention it, so ... uh ...” His phone buzzed. It was Oikawa, saying he was free if Daichi wanted to call round. “Okay, guys, I gotta go.”

“Aw, Sawamura, I was gonna tell Lev about the other things we can’t talk about,” Kuroo moaned. “Like Yaks buying Lily of the Valley soap.”

“Which he said was for his grandma, yeah.” Daichi frowned. “We NEVER mention the soap, okay, Lev-kun.”

“Or the lemon juice he put in his hair.”

“What?”

Kuroo sat up a little, his face deadpan. “He wanted to dye his hair. Blonde streaks or something, so bought lemon juice. But ... uh ...”

“He bought lemon squash instead, and ... um ... his hair was very sticky. The bees loved it, though.” Daichi added.

“So, don’t mention it, okay,” Kuroo finished. He raised a hand to Daichi. “Where ya goin’ anyway?”

“To see Oi ...” Remembering Lev was there, he stopped himself. “Uh, library.”

“Whatever you say, Captain Crow,” Kuroo murmured.

He tapped lightly on the bedroom door before entering, which was dumb because it was his bedroom too, but Suga had looked tired after shopping, and Daichi thought he might be asleep. A curt ‘Yep’ from Suga showed he wasn’t and he was in fact sitting on the bed and tapping something into his laptop.

“College work?”

Suga looked up not smiling. “Trying to find a recipe.”

“For roast chicken?”

“Bread sauce,” he muttered, his eyes flicking back to the screen. “I need cloves.”

“What?”

“Cloves. It’s a spice. Damn! And a bay leaf. I need to go out again.” Uncurling his legs, he slid off the bed, reached for his jacket and tripped over.

Daichi grabbed him by the arm. “Hey, careful.”

“It’s you leaving your things on the floor,” Suga snapped. “Can’t you pick things up?”

“It’s a book. It’s on my side of the bed!” Daichi exclaimed. He stared down into his eyes, noting not just the dark circles underneath, but the taut paleness of his skin. “Sug, relax, will you?”

He melted almost immediately, a momentary pause before sinking forwards into Daichi’s chest. “Sorry. I know this is annoying,” he whispered. “And I’m being a pain. You don’t need this. But I just want... I want ... I want this to be good tomorrow.” He sniffed. “Be good to see Asahi again.”

“Hey.” Lifting his hand, Daichi wiped an eyelash off Suga’s cheek with his thumb. “Stop worrying so much. It’ll be fine.” In his arms, Suga was shivering, although it wasn’t cold in the room, so Daichi kissed his cheek and released him. “Go to bed and sleep. If you’re going down with whatever Kuroo’s got, then rushing out shopping isn’t going to help.”

“But what about the cloves and bay leaves?”

“I’ll get them,” Daichi replied. “I have to go out anyway. You, BED!”

With a half smile, Suga sat back down, pulled off his shirt, and tugged on his pyjama top. Bleary-eyed, he lay under the duvet, and then gazed at Daichi. “I must look shit.”

Daichi shook his head. “No, just tired,” he murmured. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he felt Suga’s forehead. “You don’t feel hot.”

“Or look it, eh?” Suga remarked drily. He tried a laugh. “You’re not joining me, then?”

“No, I’m going to let you rest, and buy your bay leaves.”  His phone beeped . It was Oikawa, _again,_ telling him to bring some milk with him. ‘And bread, too’.

“What are you scowling at?” Suga asked.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” he said, and after ruffling his hair, left Suga to sleep.

He was still frowning when he picked up the milk and bread for Oikawa, but not because of the request. He was, quite frankly, perplexed. Suga was being _so_ compliant, and okay, while he was generally sunny natured, and could always tease Daichi out of his moods, he wouldn’t hold back if he was annoyed. Snapping over the book he’d tripped on was entirely _in_ character, especially as he was tired, but immediately falling into placatory mode, was not.

 

“Don’t tell me you want help present shopping, Sawa-chan,” Oikawa drawled and placed a cup of tea in front of Daichi. “You must know your boyfriend by now. You’ve been friends long enough.”

“Uh ... yeah, sure. I just want to know what sort of things people get for Christmas. I mean is it like New Year?  Am I supposed to get something lucky, or traditional?”

Taking a seat, Oikawa bit into the sandwich he’d made and shook his head. “It’s just a gift. Much like birthday. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Although as it’s coming from you, it probably should, don’t you think?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t buy him socks!” he said, then laughed. “Unless you have foot fetish. Even then, socks aren’t a good present. Stockings, or a pedicure, would be much better.”

“Uh ...what?”

“I bet Koushi looks gorgeous in fishnets,” Oikawa mused, resting his chin on his hand.

Daichi gulped his tea, scorching his throat and spluttered. “I wouldn’t know.” Coughing, he tried to think of what else to say, something anything to stop the blush appearing on his cheeks. “He hates being called Koushi.”

“I know. Why do you think I do it, Sawa-chan? I must say, you do look cute when you’re pink. Maybe stockings are something you should ... uh ... add to your repertoire,” Oikawa teased. And then he pulled his face straight, and that, too, worried Daichi, especially when he added, “Buy something meaningful, Sawamura-kun. He’s your boyfriend, and you’re special to him, so ... think carefully.”

“He talks about me?”

Oikawa shrugged. “Sometimes. Conversation is a two-way process, after all. I couldn’t expect him to listen to me all the time, could I?”  He smirked. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

“No. Just ...”  For a moment, a small, infinitesimally small moment, Daichi wanted to confide in Oikawa, to question him further, but something stopped him. _He_ knew Suga better than anyone, and the one thing they’d always been able to do was talk.

Instead he cleared his throat, and leant back in his chair, trying to affect a casualness he didn’t quite feel as he faced Oikawa (the man who Suga appeared to have chatting to about them both.) “So ... um ... do your family still celebrate Christmas?”

“Nope, we celebrate New Year, usually with a holiday.  This year it’s skiing.”

“Sounds ... uh ... fun?” Daichi lied. He’d tried skiing once. It had been a Junior High trip, and the experience had not been fun at all. Clamping heavy boots to his feet, and trudging up to the chair lift carrying skis, had almost done for him and he’d half collapsed before they even made the starter slope. Altitude sickness, his instructor had said, and ordered him to return to the base. He’d enjoyed the hot chocolate and scenery and not gone back the next day.

“Mmm, doesn’t it? Shame I’m not going.”

“You’re not?”

He shook his head, finished his sandwich, then drank some of his tea before elaborating. “I enjoy it, but I don’t want to risk injury now I’ve made the university team. Well, that’s what I told my parents...” He coughed and smiled a little, this time with an inkling of genuine warmth. “It means I get the house to myself.”

“You’re going back to Miyagi, then?”

“Uh-huh. Might see you there, Sawa-chan. Although, I don’t plan on doing a lot of socialising.”

It was only later, when he was walking away from Oikawa’s flat and scanning shop windows to find the perfect present, that he realised Oikawa knew he was going home.

Home?  Really?  The word sat uneasy in his mind. But he had an obligation. A duty to return.

And then it hit him. Hit him with all the force of a spike to the face.

_Oh, Suga, is this what it’s all about?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're still enjoying and reading this despite it being way past Christmas. I'm rubbish at deadlines, especially when I realise everything I write has the same deadline - ooops.


	6. Shepherds and Sheep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Daichi walks home into hell. (ish)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's still Christmas Eve in Daisuga land.

Daichi arrived back at the apartment to Armageddon.

At least it was the approximation of what he assumed Armageddon would sound like – noise. Very loud noise. Shrieks and Yelling. A lot of yelling. Then thuds and crashes as if things were being thrown.

He quickened his pace, pulling his phone out as he got to the door, ready to call the police.  But just before he opened up, he heard one clearer voice, not yelling or at all hysterical, but loud and compelling, taking control of whatever situation had occurred.

“Then maybe, Yaks, _you_ should stop telling your idiot boyfriend tales outta school.”

“WHAT?” yelled Morisuke.

“You heard,” Kuroo said. “Maybe some of us don’t want stuff getting back to our former teammates. And you shagging a kid who can’t help shootin’ his mouth off means you need to keep it shut, too.”

“SHUT UP!” His voice was now a shriek, and from the other side of the door, Daichi could clearly hear more thuds, as if ... as if something or someone had fallen to the floor.

“You want to fight, Yaks. Really?” Kuroo hooted.

“That’s enough!”

“Keep out of it, Sugawara.”

_Oh hell_.  Peering through the peephole, he was confronted by the sight of Kuroo getting off the floor, a furious expression on his face as he dabbed his lip, and  Suga holding onto Morisuke’s flailing arm.   _Hell, hell, he really went for Kuroo and Suga’s stepping between them._

Hearing the key, the three of them swivelled their heads towards him.

“What’s happened?” he said, assuming his sternest tone of voice, the one he’d reserved for Tanaka and Noya when they played up. (But, boy, it was so much simpler in those days.)

“Oh great, the other shit stirrer’s turned up. What else are _you_ going to say?”

“Uh ...”Daichi raised his hands, as if in supplication, and kept the smile on his face. “Sorry, I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You know,” Morisuke accused. “Lev told me what was said.”

“Lev said what exactly?”

“The bee story,” Suga answered, shooting him a look.

Daichi snorted, and waited for Suga’s shoulders to tremble, the sure sign he was stifling a laugh. But Suga was frowning and instead of approaching Daichi, had laid his hand on Morisuke’s arm.

“Go and speak to him,” he said, and pushed him towards the lounge. “I’ll make sure these two idiots don’t disturb you.”

Grumpily, Morisuke stomped into the lounge, slamming the door shut. The three of them heard a murmur of low voices, and then Lev, slightly louder, maybe trying to apologise.

“Does someone mind telling me what that was all about?” asked Daichi.

“Don’t play innocent,” Suga snapped, rounding on them both. “You KNOW how sensitive he is about his height. And it’s a thousand times worse because Lev is so tall, yet you had to go and wind him up, didn’t you? I kind of expected it from Kuroo, but you, Daichi, what were you thinking?”

“Hey! Morisuke started it!” Daichi exclaimed.

“That’s true,” Kuroo put in and started to laugh. “Yaks shouldn’t dish it out if he can’t take it.”

“You’re both gits. Now go and apologise.”

“Do what?”

“Huh?”

As Kuroo protested, Daichi had to fight an insane urge to giggle. This was so like High School, with Suga playing the part of Takeda, and Morisuke the Vice Principal whose wig had gone flying. Shuddering, he pulled his face straight. “We didn’t say anything that wasn’t true, and admit it, you were pissing yourself at the bee story. He’s overreacting.”

“You have no bloody idea, do you?” Suga fumed. “Both of you, so confident, so right about absolutely everything. It wouldn’t occur to you that – UGHH forget it. What’s the point?”

“Suga?” Daichi bit his lip, really struggling to understand, but Suga didn’t look at him and walked back into their bedroom slamming the door.

“Guess we’re both in the doghouse,” Kuroo muttered.

“ _Should_ we apologise?”

Kuroo shrugged. “What for? Yaks told Lev a bunch of stuff about us - we reciprocated. It’s not our fault lover boy can’t keep his trap shut.”

“S’pose so.”

But, they’d known Lev would tell, and they also knew Morisuke would overreact because that’s the way he was with Lev.

“Is your lip okay?” he asked.

Kuroo winced. “I kinda forget, ‘cause he’s so short, that Yaks is strong. Good aim, too.”

“Want anything?”

“Nah, I’m good. I’m going back to bed,” Kuroo said, and picking up his quilt, he shuffled to his bedroom. “If Suga locks you out, I got a floor you can sleep on, Captain Crow.”

“Thanks. I might need it.”

 

The kitchen was quiet. A mess, because no one had bothered clearing  up after cooking. So by way of what he hoped was an apology, Daichi collected the plates together (four so they’d obviously all eaten) and filled the sink with water.  The tap didn’t run hot for long, so the washing up liquid didn’t make the mass of snow white bubbles he’d hoped for, but then that summed up the day.

Wiping down the surfaces, drying cutlery, he put things back in their designated places (designated by Suga and Morisuke, Kuroo couldn’t give a toss) and then dried the last two mugs on the draining board.

“Tea,” he said, tapping on the door.  “Can I come in?”

“It’s your bedroom, too,” Suga replied. He sounded weary, and the edge was gone, but Daichi still made sure he looked suitably apologetic before he walked in.

“Sorry,” he said, just to make sure.

Suga was sitting at the desk, one foot tucked under his bum as he tapped something out on his laptop. “Forget it.”

“I got your cloves,” Daichi said, “but couldn’t find bay leaves.”

“Huh? Oh ... don’t worry.” Suga swung the chair round, holding out his hand for the tea. “I might forget the whole thing anyway.”

“What?”

“With everyone at loggerheads, it’s not going to be a day to celebrate, is it?” Suga mumbled.

Deciding to think first instead of immediately protesting, Daichi sat heavily on the bed, slopping his tea down his shirt and over the carrier bag in his other hand. As Suga appeared not to have noticed, he hurriedly stuffed the bag under the bed, then started to unbutton his shirt.

“I’m not in the mood,” Suga said.

“I’m not offering,” Daichi snapped. He bit his lip. “Sorry. The mood out there must be catching.”

“S’fine.” But he sounded stiff again, and still not friendly. “Did you eat?”

“Mmm, don’t worry.”  He’d dropped into a cafe while shopping, and would fix himself something later if he got hungry. “Is ... uh ... that when it kicked off?”

Suga sighed. “Yeah, Kuroo started it. He was making Lev laugh with buzzing noises. You really shouldn’t have gone into detail about where he was stung. Morisuke was mortified.”

“I didn’t!” he protested. “That must have happened after I’d gone out.” He started to snort, but Suga quelled him with a look. “Oh, come on, I know he was in pain, but it was bloody funny when that bee flew up his shorts.”

But Suga didn’t laugh although he had at the time, Daichi remembered because later that evening, after the incident, they’d both had to stuff their faces into the pillows so Morisuke wouldn’t hear them still laughing.

“Kuroo went too far,” he said stubbornly.

Daichi shrugged. “What’s new? Morisuke knows that better than anyone.” Stretching out his hand, heartened when Suga reached out, he pulled him, chair and all over to the bed. “What did he say?”

Suga smiled wearily. “Lots of jokes about swellings and how Lev would have got extra lucky if he’d been here that week. I was trying to stop him, but he just went on.”

“Doesn’t sound _that_ bad, Sug. Why was Morisuke so angry?”

“Uh ... they’ve not actually ... um ... slept together,” Suga said, chewing the side of his mouth. “Do NOT tell him I’ve told you that, okay.”

“Huh?  They’ve not? But haven’t they been together for like a year, or something?”

“Longer,” Suga muttered, and he shifted off the chair, joining Daichi on the bed. “But ... um ... he’s really aware that Lev’s two years younger. It’s not like us, I mean, six months is negligible, but Lev was fifteen when they first ... uh ... well.”

“You know a lot about it,” Daichi murmured, hoping he didn’t sound jealous, because he wasn’t - not really- but it struck him again that there were people who talked to Suga, and that he probably talked back, sharing problems with someone other than Daichi.

Because obviously, sometimes, Daichi was the problem.

“Hey, I’m the one people come running too, aren’t I?”

“Sug?” Daichi murmured.

“Mmm, what?”

“Don’t cancel Christmas. I’d like to celebrate, even if we those idiots crash the day,” he said, and smiled as he caressed Suga’s cheek. “I’ll help, if you want. Promise I’ll read the instructions properly this time.”

“I’ll think about it,” Suga replied, staring at him. He narrowed his eyes and a small glimmer of a smile – a genuine smile – appeared on his face. “You’re getting chest hair, Dai,” he said and touched his fingers to the faint sprinkling of hair between his pecs.

And although Daichi didn’t really want to change the subject, when Suga’s fingers started their slow trail across his chest and down, he couldn’t see the point in saying no.

 

It was later, when his stomach had really started to rumble, that Daichi padded into the kitchen leaving Suga dozing. Morisuke was there, a faintly sheepish smile on his face, and for a split second, Daichi wanted to ask if he’d finally ‘scored’. _Suga would kill me,_ he thought, and instead he took a breath.

“Hey, sorry about earlier,” he said. “We went too far.”

“Forget it.” Morisuke waved his hand in the air, and smiled properly. “Lev said you didn’t tell him much, anyway. And really, I should stop letting Kuroo get to me. He doesn’t usually, it’s just a ... well ... really it’s only when he talks about Lev. I’m a bit kind of defensive, I s’pose. And he wouldn’t stop when we had dinner, just would not quit, even though I could tell Suga was kicking him under the table. ” He paused for breath. “Sorry, we ate without you. There are some leftovers in the fridge, though.”

“Thanks, I’ll heat it up,”  he said.

Expecting Morisuke to leave and get back to Lev, he was surprised when he stayed where he was, apparently not in the kitchen to get drinks. “Suga wondered where you’d got to. You didn’t reply to his text, so we had no idea when you’d be back.”

“Phone’s out of charge, and it’s fine. I can eat now.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Morisuke open his mouth as if to speak, only to close it quickly. “I had to go present shopping,” he said, adding innocently, “For Suga.”

“Oh.  OHH!” Morisuke’s eyes were round and then he grinned. “Great. What did you get him?”

“Ha, that would be telling,” Daichi said and smirked. He was proud of his inventiveness, but had no intention of spilling the beans to anyone other than Suga.


	7. Breakfast in Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Daichi makes several mistakes (but he's trying, Sug).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I know it's not Christmas, but if Furudate can stretch out the Karasuno/Seijou match for four months ...
> 
> (It might be finished by next December ... no this will end soon, I promise :D)

Daichi made his first mistake when he woke up on Christmas Day.  He hadn’t known it was a mistake. He’d thought he was being thoughtful because Suga wasn’t at his best in the mornings, so as the first part of his present, Daichi decided to let him sleep.

Sliding out of bed, he reached for the carrier bag containing the other presents and crept out of their bedroom, intent on wrapping them.  

“What are you doing, Daichi-san?” came Lev’s voice fifteen minutes later.

“Wrapping presents,” he muttered, resisting the urge to snap ‘what does it look like?’ because with strips of sellotape stuck like fringing on the coffee table, and torn wrapping paper on the floor (he couldn’t find the scissors) it couldn’t have been clearer.

“Don’t you have any ribbon?” Lev asked. He flopped onto the rug, sitting cross-legged in front Daichi.

“Um, no. Should I have ribbon?”

Lev considered. “It makes things look pretty. And if you scrape scissors across it, it curls up and looks even prettier.”

“Uh ... I’ll take your word for it.” He looked at Lev, taking in the pyjama bottoms that were far too short in the leg, leaving exposed calves, which made Daichi shiver with cold. “Do you want the heating on?”

“I’m fine,” he said cheerfully. “I thought I’d have a bath. Is that all right?”

“Hmm? Oh ... yeah ... knock yourself out.”

Which was Daichi’s second mistake of the day.

Not that he was aware of it, just as he wasn’t aware that doing a kind thing and letting your boyfriend sleep while you made him a special Christmas breakfast was a bad thing either.

Oikawa had informed him that his mum had always started Christmas Day with scrambled egg, smoked salmon and a glass of Buck’s Fizz. With no champagne, Daichi had instead bought oranges so he could produce freshly squeezed juice. Three oranges later, he had barely enough for half a glass.  He wrinkled his nose, squeezed the rest, deciding he’d have water instead, and then set about making scrambled eggs.

Which burnt in the pan.

Because he hadn’t realised he needed butter and should keep stirring.

Kuroo wandered in, started to cough at the smoke. “Jeez, Sawamura, what the hell are ya doing?”

“Breakfast,” he muttered. “Sort of.” Peering into the saucepan, he poked at the dried up egg with black bits in. “D’you reckon this is salvageable?”

Kuroo bent over the pan and pulled a face. “Salvageable as what? Wall insulation?”

“Maybe it tastes better than it looks,” said Daichi, lifting the spoon to his lips. “Ughh, no, it’s worse.”

“What is that brown stuff?”

“Smoked salmon.”

Sighing, Kuroo took the pan from him, threw the contents into the bin, and left it in the sink. “Special breakfast, huh?”

“Yeah, could say that.”

“Well, as I kinda caused trouble last night, let Captain Cat come to the rescue.” He stepped to the fridge, removing six eggs. “Got any cream?”

“Uh... yeah, at the back.” Daichi swallowed. “ _Can_ you actually cook?”

He winked at Daichi as he cracked the eggs in a small bowl. “I used t’ cook all the time at home. Mum had a job working shifts, and my dad wasn’t around much so ... yeah, cook or starve.”

Watching as Kuroo beat a little cream into the eggs, Daichi pondered his flatmate. They’d all settled in well together, the past nine months had been easy, but he realised he knew very little about Kuroo’s life outside of volleyball and college. Or Morisuke’s come to that. Suga probably did, but then Suga took his time to work out what made people tick.

“My mum doesn’t work,” Daichi offered. “So she’s always around. She cooks. She’s a very good cook, but she didn’t teach me. Didn’t ... um ... she didn’t think it was necessary because I was a boy and would marry someone who’d cook for me.”

“Didn’t figure on Suga, right?”

“She says now that she never liked him. That he was a bad influence,” he replied bitterly, then sighed. “Complete crap. She liked him, and was always pleased we spent time together. She reckoned he kept me focused on studying.”

“Suga’s parents are fine with you guys, aren’t they?”

He nodded. “They’ve been cool. What about yours? Your mum, I mean.”

“Ahh,” he quirked a smile at Daichi. “Not a subject we talk about. She has this idea that it’s my dad’s fault.” He snorted, and placing the eggs in the microwave  turned it on. “Like him hitting us was what made me want to fuck guys. When really, you’d think it would make me want to avoid ‘em.”

“He hit you?”

“Uh-huh.”

The way he said, so matter-of-fact, made Daichi reel. “I had no idea, sorry.”

“Why would’ja,” Kuroo replied. He opened the microwave door and beat the eggs again, taking his time. “Cut some strips of salmon, and we’ll add them right at the end, ‘k? Oh, and butter that toast.”

Three minutes later, carrying a tray laden with two plates of perfect scrambled egg and salmon, one glass of orange juice and two cups of coffee, Daichi very carefully let himself into the bedroom. Setting the tray on their shared desk, he sat on the edge of the bed and slowly traced Suga’s brow and cheek with his thumb.

“Hi, sleepy-head,” he whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Merry Christmas, Sug.”

“Huh?”  Suga blinked. His eyes were bleary; he yawned obviously still shattered, but wriggled up to sitting position, then flopped his head onto Daichi’s shoulder. “What’s the time?”

“Breakfast time,” Daichi said, and turning his head slightly he nibbled Suga’s ear. “Proper Christmas breakfast. I made ... well, actually Kuroo made scrambled eggs and smoked salmon.”

Jerking his head up, Suga mouthed ‘wow’, and then grinned. “That _sounds_ amazing. But ... uh ... Kuroo made it? Is it edible?”

“Better than mine. No lie, he saved my ass. I did squeeze the oranges and buttered the toast.”

Suga chuckled. “I’m guessing even you can’t get that wrong.”

“Git.” He nipped his ear again, then levering himself off the bed, he fetched the tray and placed it on the bed between them. “The juice is yours.”

“You’re a wonderful person, but let’s share,” Suga declared, and taking a sip, he handed it over to Daichi, before surreptitiously removing a pip from his mouth. “What is the time, by the way? You must ...” He stifled a yawn. “You and Kuroo must have got up very early.”

“Not really. It’s nine ish.”

“WHAT?!” Instantly alert, Suga leapt from the bed so quickly he upset the tray, coffee slopped over the mug rims to drench the food.

“SUGA!”

“It’s nine-thirty-five!” Suga gasped. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were asleep. There are no classes today so you didn’t have to get up,” Daichi soothed.

“Jeez, the alarm didn’t go off either. What the hell happened?” He was struggling into some sweat pants, toppling back on the bed in his haste.

“Slow down! What’s the problem?”

“Did you turn the alarm off?”

“Uh ...” 

“Did you?” Suga’s eyes bored into him.

Daichi stared at him, stared at the manic face of his boyfriend, his hair even more dishevelled than usual. “Yes, I did,” he said calmly. “You needed to sleep.”

“You idiot!” Suga exclaimed. “I _needed_ to be up at seven so I could defrost the chicken.”

“Well, excuse me for not being psychic!”

“I set the alarm for a reason.”

“And I didn’t know that!” Daichi protested. “You didn’t tell me. If I’d known, I would have taken the chicken out myself.”

“Well, it’s too late now. This changes the whole schedule. It will take at least five hours to defrost. I wanted to eat at one.”

“So, we eat at three. Or later.” Daichi grabbed Suga’s arm as he bustled past. “No one is going to care.”

“Thanks for that! You were the one that told me to go on with this, and now you say no one gives a toss!”

“That’s not what I meant _!” Jeez, what was wrong with him? Was he really that-_

“Hey, guys!  Cool it!” Kuroo shouted. He knocked on the door, then opened it, not waiting for a ‘come in’. “Breakfast didn’t work, then. Aww, that was my cooking! Why d’you have to pour your coffee all over it?”

“Sorry,” Suga said, but it was through gritted teeth. He inhaled sharply, pulled away from Daichi and stomped to the door. “Excuse me, I have things to get on with.”

Folding his arms, Kuroo blocked his way. “You might wanna remove that scowl first, Sugawara.”

“Why?”

“’Cause while you two were knocking seven bells out of each other, ya missed the doorbell. Your friend’s here.” He stepped to the side, opening the door wider, and Daichi, looking up from the bed saw the hesitant, wavering figure of Asahi.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, and scratched the back of his head. “I caught an earlier train. I did text, but ... uh ... I guess you didn’t see. Or maybe the text didn’t send ... for some reason.”

“ASAHI!” yelled Daichi and pushing past both Suga and Kuroo, he punched him on the arm. “Great to see you, ya big goofball. Come in. Come in!”

“Uh ... okay ...” Asahi stared down at him. “I-is this a bad moment?” he whispered.

“No,” Daichi muttered. “It’s the best moment. Suga can’t be mad at me with you here.”

“Wanna bet, Sawamura!” snapped Suga. Pulling on Asahi’s arm, he whacked him on the chest, then gave him a hug. “It is _so_ good to see you. Look, make yourself comfortable. I’ve got some things to do, but I’m sure _he_ will make you a coffee and keep you amused.”

Asahi’s eyes flicked from one to the other. He flushed an ugly shade of puce and shuffled his feet. “This is a bad time. I should go.”

“No, it’s the right time. Suga’s just being ...”

“I’m being what?”

“Your usual delightful self in the mornings,” Daichi said sweetly, and steered Asahi into the lounge.

He could hear Suga clattering around in the kitchen, not bothering to keep his voice down. When he cursed for the third time. Daichi could bear it no longer, and wandered in, ostensibly to make Asahi a drink.

“Need a hand?” he asked, watching as Suga approached their icebox with a knife and a spatula.

“No, I need the ice box to become miraculously bigger so I can remove this sodding chicken,” he snapped.

Flicking on the kettle, Daichi turned his back, but he could see Suga’s reflection in the glass cupboard door, as he chipped away at the ice-encrusted chicken.

“Couldn’t you have left it in the fridge to defrost overnight?”

“Yeah, really helpful! Have you seen the amount of food in our fridge?”

“Sorry.”  The kettle boiled, he poured its contents into a cup, staring blankly at the steaming water, then shook his head because he’d forgotten the coffee. Turning around he saw Suga had abandoned the tools and was now tugging at the chicken, which had wedged tight in the tiny icebox.  “Suga, STOP!”

“What?” he tugged again.

“The fridge is wobbling! You’ll pull it over.”

“But I need to get this... OH FUCK!” His hands slipped and without his hold, he staggered backwards, falling on his arse.  The fridge rocked, and Daichi heard the sound of something falling, but it wobbled back into place.

“Ow!” Suga moaned.

Reaching down, Daichi clasped his arm. “Get up, you idiot.”

“I landed badly.”

“You’ve had worse falls in volleyball,” Daichi assured him, and pulling him to his feet, he let his arms creep round Suga’s waist.

“Yeah, there weren’t a lot of knives on the court, not even when we played Ougiminami,” Suga replied, and showed him the knife he’d dropped on the floor.

There was something wet on Daichi’s  fingers.  He raised his hand, his eyes widening in horror at the smear of blood on his hand. “SHIT!  You’re bleeding.”

Wincing, Suga stepped back, lifted his shirt, and peered over his shoulder. “Shame I didn’t land on the spatula. Uh, I nicked the skin. It’s fine.”

“Let me see,” Daichi ordered, and turned him around.  The cut was superficial, but long, arcing across his back and towards his waist. But although there was blood, it was seeping rather than gushing. Dabbing it with kitchen roll, he kissed him on the neck. “You’ll live.”

“Is that your considered medical opinion? Only I thought you were studying law.”

“Hmm, I could get Kuroo to take a look,” he muttered, and splayed his thumb up Suga’s spine.

“Gods no, save me from first year medical students.” Suga turned, and smiled as he draped his hands around Daichi’s shoulders. “I’m sorry. I am a nightmare this morning.”

“Nah, you’re cool. Let’s sort this chicken out.”

“It’s wedged in,” Suga said, frowning. “I reckon it’s iced up more.”

“Then, we need to melt the ice,” Daichi replied, and dropped a kiss on Suga’s brow, pleased he was thawing, too.  He reached across for the mug of coffeeless coffee. “I’ll sort it. You go and get washed, and then we can entertain Asahi.”

“I still have so much to do.”

“I’ll help,” Daichi promised.

“No, I wanted to do this. I wanted this to be special. Because ...”

Suga was staring at him so intently that he blushed. He had an inkling of why Suga was getting so stressed, what was bothering him, and driving him to make this day a success. But if he pushed it, if he outwardly voiced what he suspected, he knew Suga would laugh it off, and that wouldn’t help at all.  Because he was still the boy from High School, and nine months couldn’t make that much of a difference to the over-thinking mess Suga occasionally poured himself into.

“Because what?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged and smiled a little, then turned away, rubbing his lower back. “If you mean it about getting that chicken out, then I’m going to take a bath.”

“’K... oh ...”

“What?” He stopped at the door.

“Uh ... Lev took a bath. And I ... um ...”

“You forgot to tell him not to use up all the water, didn’t you?”

“Uh ... yeah.” Daichi gnawed his lip, wondering if he could cast a beseeching look at Suga and get him to laugh again. Their boiler being old and cranky, hot water in the mornings was at a premium.“He might not have done.”

“He’s twenty meters tall, there’s no way he’d settle for a trickle.” He flapped away Daichi’s apology. “Doesn’t matter. I have to cook anyway. Just ...” His phone rang, and he stopped pulling it out of his dressing gown pocket.  “Hi. Yeah, I’m good. Sort of. Um, well the chicken’s still wedged in the freezer because I unexpectedly slept in.” He glared at Daichi, grinning when Daichi scowled back. “Oh, and there’s probably no hot water, so ... yeah ... very romantic.” Suga giggled. “Um, no, not yet.” He nodded, muttering ‘uh-huh’ and yep at regular intervals, then turning back to Daichi, pointing to the chicken, he finished his conversation. “Look, why don’t you come over? Yeah, we’re starting later now, so eating around four? Will that suit you? ... Great, see you then.”

Placing the cup with boiling water inside the icebox, Daichi deliberately set to work removing the chicken, trying to make it look as if he really wasn’t bothered about Suga’s phone call, as if he wasn’t at all interested in who he was talking to. Because he wasn’t. At all. And ... no, he didn’t even care that someone else was coming over. Not at all. It would be fun. And if the guest was someone who could make Suga smile, then that was good. Wasn’t it?

“That was Tooru,” Suga said nonchalantly. “He’s joining us later.”


	8. Unexpected Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lev surprises everyone by making an intelligent suggestion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the penultimate chapter. I have - four months after I started this darn fic - actually finished it, so the last chapter will be up very soon. 
> 
> And yes, I believe Christmas in the DaiSuga flat has lasted longer than the Karasuno/Seijou match. I apologise!

The noise from the kitchen had not lessened once the chicken was out the freezer. Telling everyone he needed space, Suga had banned anyone from loitering and glared so hard when Daichi wandered in to make more coffee, that he’d backed out.

“Uh, maybe later,” he suggested to Asahi. “Or we could go out.”

Asahi shook his head. “I’m fine, but does Suga need a hand?”

“Probably,” Daichi agreed, “but at the moment he’s determined to do it all himself.”

“You don’t seem too concerned.”

Daichi raised his eyebrows when they pair of them heard something crash to the floor, and a stream of curses flying from Suga’s mouth. “I’ve learnt more about Suga in these past nine months than in three years of High School. For instance, he likes cooking, but it always starts like this - yells and frustration because he can never find the right pan, or knife, or whatever.  Once he’s organised, he’ll calm down. You might even hear him singing.”

“Y-you’re good, though?” Asahi asked. “Happy ... together.”

“Yeah, sure.” Daichi shrugged. “It’s different at university, that’s all. Hey, tell me about this interview.”

“Not much to tell,” he murmured.

“What sort of job is it?”

“Um ... it’s not. It’s for a place at catering college!”

“Wow! That’s ... um ... I didn’t know that was your thing.”

Asahi gave Daichi a gentle sort of smile and patted the back of his hair. “I’ve been working for my uncle in his restaurant, and... it’s ... um ... a decent sort of career.”

There was something vague about his answers, but then Asahi was so self-deprecating that he rarely talked about his enthusiasms. Daichi was never sure if that was because he wasn’t passionate about them, or because he was scared of boring people. “You’re back playing, yeah?”

He nodded, now looking far more animated. “I’ve been training and playing with the Neighbourhood Association. It’s ... good–”

“A far cry from Nationals, eh? Must be a lot more relaxed.”

Smiling ruefully, Asahi picked up a biscuit and bit into a third of it. “You’d think so, but they don’t just play for fun, and some of them are former pros.”

“How are the guys?  You seen much of them?”

He nodded, and suddenly seemed to relax. “They’re playing well. The new first years settled in. Kinoshita left, you know that, but Narita stayed on.”

“Mmm,” Daichi helped himself to a biscuit, crunching it in two bites before replying. “I thought Ennoshita might go before summer break, especially as he’s not applying for a sports scholarship.”

They chatted longer, mainly about Karasuno, the conversation straying to who would be the next Captain.

Hearing a tune lilt from the kitchen, Daichi felt his shoulders unknot. “Sug,” he called.

“Uh-huh.”

“Want a hand?”

“No, prep’s nearly done,” he replied, then the next minute appeared at the door carrying three cups of coffee. “What are you two looking so intense about?”

“Discussing Karasuno’s next captain,” Daichi said, accepting a mug. “Maybe they’ll have to find a first year.”

“Hinata,” Suga said immediately. “Hey, don’t look at me like that, he’s excellent with people.”

“Tsukishima’s brighter,” Daichi proposed. “He’s got good game sense.”

“But a terrible team member. New first years would run away.”

“You said that about me, though,” Daichi laughed. “That I was too scary, remember?”

“Hmm, but there’s a difference between scary and so rude it’s intimidating. Everyone respected you, Dai. Besides,” he said, “you had me.”

“Yup.”  He stretched out his hand, ignoring Asahi as he flicked his attention to the floor, and pulled on Suga’s sleeve. “Come and sit down. Asahi’s got news.”

“Oh, what? What? What?” Suga demanded, and wriggled between the pair of them.

“Our Ace is going to be a cordon-bleu chef.”

“Huh?”

Asahi shook a little, raising both hands, palms outward as he shook his head. “N-nothing like that. It’s just an idea. Catering college.”

“In Tokyo?” Suga asked, then laughed when Asahi nodded. “That’s brilliant!  We’ll see you all the time then.”

“Uh ... well, it’s just an idea,” he mumbled. “I’m ... um ... not sure about leaving Miyagi, but you two seem to have settled here.”

“Best thing we did,” Daichi said brightly, and risking Asahi’s embarrassment (actually it still amused him the way Asahi would blush when he saw them get affectionate) he ruffled Suga’s hair.

“It’s a long way, though,” Asahi mused. “I think I’d miss home too much.”

“Not my problem,” Daichi muttered. He blew across his coffee taking a sip, and another as a sticky sort of silence sank into the room. Then shaking his head, he plastered a smile on his face. “If you came to Tokyo, though, we could practise together. Be a lot of fun, eh, Sug?”

“Hmm?”

He’d wandered off, his eyes had the brooding quality in them when he was mulling over something in his mind. And Daichi knew Suga wasn’t thinking about food or volleyball. Mentions of home always did this to him. Not that _he_ had an issue, having returned home several times to see his family. It was just that the pair of them had not gone back together.

“If Asahi moved to Tokyo,” he ploughed on, “we could practise together. Reunite the best one-two-three in the business.”

“Mm, yeah, it would be good,” Suga said. He coughed and stood up, avoiding Daichi’s hand. “I really need to get on with things.”

“Sorry,” Asahi mumbled as Suga left the room. “I ... uh ... didn’t think.”

Daichi wrinkled his nose and tried a light smile. Having Asahi ill at ease wasn’t going to help matters, especially with Oikawa coming over, who could spot a frosty atmosphere (and exploit it) as soon as he entered a room. “He’s bogged down with course work, and has been busting a gut this past month over this Christmas stuff. You know Suga, he throws himself into everything.”

“But things aren’t good with you at home, no?” Asahi gulped and exhaled. “ _You’ve_ not been back.”

“I did for summer. Well, that was the intention, but it got tense, so I came back here after a week and got a job with Kuroo.” He shrugged. “Asahi, it’s fine. Don’t worry.”

“But it’s your -”

But whatever Asahi had been about to say, and Daichi had a shrewd idea what, was interrupted by the front door opening and Lev galloping into the room. His face lit up seeing Asahi, not that he knew him well, but Lev, Daichi knew, loved any chance to meet an Ace, to talk about his own ambitions that way, and indeed, he flopped on the floor in front of them and immediately bowed his head.

“Good day, Lev-kun?” Daichi asked, resisting the almost overwhelming urge to pat his head.

“It’s been a _long_ day, Daichi –san. Suke wouldn’t take the bus, so we had to walk everywhere.”

“It’s good for your fitness, you lazy noodle,” Morisuke yelled from the hallway. “Suga, Tooru’s here. We found him on the stairs.”

“You make me sound like a newspaper,” Oikawa drawled. He poked his head through the door, smiling (not smirking for once, Daichi thought) and held up a large white cardboard box, tied with a red and green ribbon. “I brought a gift, Koushi-chan. Where are you?”

“Kitchen!” Suga cried. “And you shouldn’t have.”

“It’s not much.” Oikawa said, and grinned at Daichi. “Just mince pies.”

Daichi’s mouth twisted in disbelief and a niggle of irritation itched in his chest. “ _You_ made mince pies?”

“Course not, Sawa-chan,” he said and laughed. “Far too difficult. There’s a specialist cake shop near me. I popped in and asked them.” He paused and stepped towards the kitchen. “They made a Yule log as well, Koushi. It’s utterly delicious, but quite rich. They’re for after dinner.”

“You’re a star, Tooru,” Suga said, appearing from the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, and pink in the face. “Maybe we should eat them now, though. The chicken isn’t defrosted, and I can’t start cooking until that happens. We could be in for a long wait.”

“Can’t you just chuck it in the oven?” Daichi asked, just as his stomach rumbled. He smiled apologetically, but the talk of mince pies, chicken  and whatever Yule log happened to be, was making his mouth water, especially as breakfast had been a disappointment.

“Not unless you all want to die of salmonella,” Suga explained wearily. He rubbed his eyes. “Look, shall we scrap this and go out? Or, grab a takeaway? I’ll do this another time.”

“What about the microwave?” Yaku suggested. “That defrosts, doesn’t it?”

“It’s too small.”

“You could joint the chicken,” Asahi suggested. He got to his feet. “I do this all the time at my uncle’s place.”

“But then it won’t be whole, and the stuffing won’t be inside it. Plus I don’t think microwaves defrost properly,” Suga replied. “It would be uneven and the parts that are thawed would cook, so I’d rather not.”

“Um.”

It was Lev. He’d even stuck his hand in the air, then lowered it when everyone turned to look.

“Constructive suggestions only,” Morisuke warned him.

“Put it in the bath,” Lev said.

“I said constructive, Lev. Washing a frozen chicken isn’t going to help.”

“Uh ...” He went pink. “It’s what my dad does.”

“Your dad washes chickens,” Oikawa stated. “What type of career is that?”

“N-no,” Lev replied. “He cooks at home. My mum hates cooking and because she’s Russian, he’s learnt how to make more ... um ... European food. Anyway, he was thawing a whole turkey last year for our Christmas and ... um ...”

“Go on,” Suga said.

“Well, Suga-san, it’s like you said. You can’t cook it frozen because you might make everyone ill, and microwaves are too small, so ... my dad ... um ... put it in a plastic bag and soaked it in water.”

“That’s dumb!” Morisuke chided. “You must have been mistaken.”

“Nah, it’d work,” croaked Kuroo, coming out of his room. Still wrapped in his duvet, he nodded to Tooru, then collapsed into the armchair near the radiator. “My mum used to do the same. Either that or use a hairdryer, which we don’t have.”

Daichi smirked. “Bet Oikawa does,” he said, making a point of studying his hair.

“Ouch, Sawa-chan, your wit’s so cutting.”

“Dai!” Suga rapped. Daichi switched his attention to him, relaxing his jaw. “Come and help me with this chicken ... _please_?”

 

“Don’t fight with Tooru,” Suga whispered as they crouched over the chicken in the bath.

“He winds me up,” replied Daichi, and turned on the taps. “Hot or cold?”

“We don’t have any hot, do we?”

“Probably not.”

“Cold then. And how has he wound you up? He’s only been in the flat five minutes.”

“He just does. He always does!”

“I thought you liked him!”

“I do like him. Or rather I like him when he’s not taking the piss.”

Pulling a face (having to think about Oikawa invariably made Daichi behave like an eight year old) he muttered something.

“What was that?” Suga asked.

“Why do you let him call you Koushi? You thump me if I do that.”

Suga snorted. “What happened when you told him not to call you Sawa-chan?”

Daichi scowled and returned his attention to the taps, watching as the water rose up the side of the chicken.

“What happened?” Suga repeated, a slight laugh in his throat.

“He changed it to Dai-chan.”

“Exactly! The quickest way to make him stop is by ignoring him.”

“Hasn’t worked for 'Iwa-chan',” Daichi mocked.

“Because Hajime still doesn’t ignore him. Tooru gets off on conflict. You know that!”

“Is that something they taught you in psychology?”

“That and placating dumbass boyfriends who can’t chill over a bit of teasing,” Suga said, his lips twitching. “And has he actually said anything that bad, Dai?”

 “Oh, come on, the mince pies were an obvious dig at me!”

Suga giggled. It was the first smile Daichi had seen since breakfast, and although he was still irritated by Oikawa, he joined in the laughter.

“They were shit, weren’t they?”

“Well ... yeah. They might well have been the worst thing I’ve ever eaten in my entire life,” Suga replied airily. He bent down, splashing some water over the plastic bag encased chicken, then darted back up to peck Daichi on the cheek.  “But the thought behind them was wonderful.”

He caught Suga’s wrist, gently tugging him closer. “I’ll know better next time,” he muttered.

Their lips met briefly, Suga pulling back, smiling slightly before continuing the kiss. His mouth parted, and he wound his wet hands around Daichi’s neck.

“Next time?” he began.

And that’s when Daichi was certain, because Suga’s eyes were at once hopeful but guarded and the tremor in his voice wasn’t down to laughter.

“Hey, guys, that chicken ain’t a baby,” Kuroo said, wandering in.

_Fucking great timing, Kuroo!_

“Huh?”

“You can leave it alone,” he explained, then sighed. “Please, get outta here. I need a piss, and Lev’s pestering Azumane, tellin’ him he’s a really good ace, so ya might want to rescue him.”

Groaning, Daichi pulled Suga to his feet, but didn’t let go of his hand as they left the bathroom. He could hear Lev’s voice as he questioned Asahi, Oikawa chatting away to Morisuke, everything peaceful and friendly.

“We could leave them in there,” he whispered, and gestured to their room with a flick of his head. But as he fixed Suga with what he hoped was a sexy-as-hell smile, his stomach betrayed him and let out a huge earthquake of a rumble.

Collapsing against the wall with giggles, Suga draped his hands over Daichi’s shoulders, and kissed him again. “We can’t,” he said. “For one thing, you’re about to collapse with hunger, Captain, so ... why don’t we start on Tooru’s mince pies? Get into the Christmas spirit, yes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And as I wrote this, I thought up a story for Asahi... poor lamb.


	9. Naughty or Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations abound, and Suga finally admits his worst fear.

With hunger staved off with Tooru’s mince pies (which Daichi had to admit were pretty good) and a sneaky slice of Yule log when no one was looking (he cut a slice from the middle, then pushed it together and smoothed out the butter icing) Daichi’s Christmas afternoon was a lot better than the morning. Something in Suga had lightened and although he was still busy in the kitchen, he had accepted help from both Asahi and also Lev, who to everyone’s surprise – including Morisuke’s - appeared to have inherited his father’s love of cooking.

So Daichi relaxed in the lounge with Morisuke and Oikawa, whilst Kuroo took himself back to bed, promising to return for food.

“So, did Koushi like the gifts you bought him?” Oikawa asked, as he pressed his finger down onto the plate, picking up the last of the mince pie pastry crumbs.

“Do you know what he bought?” Morisuke asked. “Daichi’s been very cagey.”

Smirking, Oikawa winked. “Did you take my advice about the stockings? Fishnets, perhaps? Something to spice up your love-life, Sawa-chan.”

Remembering Suga’s instruction that he shouldn’t let Oikawa wind him up, Daichi shrugged. “Doesn’t need spicing up,” he said shortly, but then he gave him a glimmer of a smile. “I did take your advice and I bought some things that I hope are special, so ... thank you. You have actually been a great help, even if you didn’t mean to be.”

“Hey!” Oikawa snapped, and the smile, the mocking smile was gone. “I think of Suga as a friend. I like to think you are, too, Sawamura. I am capable of helping, you know?”

“Calm down,” Daichi interrupted, holding his hands up. “I’m kidding, all right. You turning up with the mince pies just felt ... provocative, okay?”

“Well, I am provocative,” Oikawa mused and sniffed. “I find it gets results.” Then he laughed. “Or a volleyball in my face. One of the two, and as both are productive, I’m not about to change.”

***

“I want to propose a toast,” Daichi said, and got to his feet. He smoothed down his shirt, a burgundy one he knew Suga liked that he’d changed into for the occasion.

They were sitting around the table now, all seven of them, Lev and Asahi having laid out the plates, cutlery (a little mismatched as they’d never had seven people here for food) a large tray of potatoes, a bowl of mixed vegetables, and an odd shaped jug full of gravy. Suga stopped carving the chicken from the foot of the table, and rolled his eyes.

“Why don’t we let everyone eat first, Dai?”

“Nope, this won’t wait.”  He puffed out his chest, trying to look impressive.  “I’ve been told it is customary in England to make a toast. We don’t have wine, but I don’t think that’s important.” He raised his glass of melon soda, tilting it to Suga. “To the cook and the other cooks. Thank you.”

“Is that it?” Kuroo asked hopefully. “Only I ain’t eaten properly for two days and I’m hungry.”

“Not quite,” Daichi said, and gestured for Suga to sit down. “Suga, you’ve spent this month trying to create Christmas in Tokyo for me and now for everyone else. And I know there’ve been times when-”

“I’ve been a bloody nuisance,” Suga replied. “I’m sorry. I wanted everything to be perfect. That’s all.”

“And it is,” Daichi said. And now his eyes were only on Suga. “As you said only a few hours ago, it’s the thought behind it that’s wonderful, and you’ve put in so much thought...”

“We get it!” Kuroo moaned piteously. “Your boyfriend’s perfect.”

“Yeah, he is,” Daichi murmured.

He waited for the jeers from Kuroo and Oikawa, but they were silent, or maybe he couldn’t hear them because the only sound he was aware of was a small choke at the back of Suga’s throat.

“You’re too much, Sawamura,” Suga said, and bit his upper lip. Then he sniffed and blinked hurriedly several times in succession. “Come on, let’s eat.”

 

“Did you like your presents, Suga-san?” Lev asked.  He was clearing his plate for the second time, having polished off the last potato and the rest of the carrots. Daichi had watched in amusement, supposing that he needed that much food to keep his legs moving, but now the smile washed off his face.

Suga swallowed his food. “What presents?” he asked. “Oh!  Tooru-san’s mince pies. Yes, they were lovely.”

“No...” Lev stared down the table at Daichi, but appeared not to realise the shaking head movements were a signal for him to shut up. “Daichi-san was wrapping things this morning. He didn’t have ribbon though, just a lot of sellotape, all over the table.”

“Lev-kun,” Morisuke muttered. “Stop talking.”

“Why? What have I said now?” he rounded on Morisuke, a pout to his lips. “You tell me off all the time, saying I gossip, but this is true.”

“Wh-what presents?” Suga asked incredulously.

“Later,” Daichi said, trying to insist but not make it sound too important because he knew Oikawa would pounce.

Which he did.

“Come on, Sawa-chan, you’ve been very mysterious.” He shifted his focus to Suga, half-smiling. “You must want to know.”

“Too right!” Suga beamed a smile. “I love presents!”

“Later!” Daichi repeated, taking a sip of his drink. He smiled to himself, knowing their minds were going into overdrive, no doubt assuming his reticence was because he’d bought something private. Which he had, but not in the way Kuroo and Oikawa’s minds obviously worked.

“Sugawara!” Kuroo crowed, “Do we have permission to go into your room to find your presents for ya?”

“Go ahead,” Daichi said, eyeing them meditatively.

“They’re not there,” Lev announced, now polishing off Morisuke’s leftovers. “Daichi-san left them behind the sof- OW!  Why did you kick me, Suke?”

Daichi didn’t hear Morisuke’s reply. He was already at the lounge door and reaching behind the sofa to retrieve the carrier bag of presents, he’d so badly wrapped that morning. But what he hadn’t counted on, was Suga’s fast reflexes, and his lighter build making him faster than the others there. So when he landed on the floor to scoop up the bag, he found Suga half underneath him, wriggling uncontrollably with laughter.

“GO GO, SUGAWARA!” cheered Kuroo, then broke into a fit of coughing.

“I want presents, Dai-chaaaan,” Suga wheedled, assuming a pouty expression. “They’re mine!”

“Later!”

“Are you telling me,” Suga whispered, “that they’re really kinky, or something?”

He shook his head, then levered himself off Suga, rocking back on his haunches. He held out his hand for the bag. Suga stared back at him, then after a sigh, he handed it over.

“Later, then,” he said quietly, and almost deflated. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Daichi murmured, and shuffled closer. “They’re a bit dumb, that’s all.”

“Dumb’s good,” Suga replied.

“So are you opening the presents, or are you sitting there until the rest of us leave?” Oikawa asked.

Daichi took a breath, determined not to react. And it didn’t matter now. There was nothing here to be ashamed of. A joke that could be explained, and if it made Suga laugh, then all the better.  He plunged into the bag, pulling out an odd shaped gift, not quite round, not soft or delicate, but still capable of breaking.

“Present one,” he said, handing it over.

“I can open later,” Suga replied.

“No, open now. I mean it,” Daichi said and grinned.

Grinning back, Suga tore at the paper, then stopped pulling out a very strange shaped black stone. “Uh ... what is this. Um ... Daichi, why have you bought me a – ”

“OH OH OH!” Lev squealed. “I know!” His eyes went round, and he started to giggle.

 “I don’t get it,” Asahi said, bemused.

“Why would you buy that?” Morisuke asked, pushing to the front.

“It’s a lump of coal!” Kuroo stated. “I don’t get it, either.”

“Sawa-chan, that’s imaginative of you,” Oikawa said. And then he started to sing.

“ _He’s making a list, he’s checking it twice,  
He’s gonna find out who’s naughty or nice.”_

“What!” Daichi sat up straight. “What are you on about?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know,” Oikawa replied, laughing. “I won’t believe you, and it _is_ very imaginative.”

“What is?” Suga asked.

“Good children get presents. Bad children are given coal. You, Koushi, must have been very naughty,” Oikawa teased.  “No wonder he wanted you to open them in private.”

“No No NO!” Daichi yelled. “That’s not it at all.”

But he was protesting to no one because Suga had collapsed, a smirk and light in his eyes that didn’t look as if they’d die out soon. “Daichi, just how naughty do you want me to be?” he sniggered.

“Hush, you’re embarrassing Asahi!” Daichi snapped and willed his cheeks - in vain- not to redden. “I didn’t know about that tradition, okay. It’s ... it’s because you were talking about fireplaces in England, when you were a kid, and I thought we could make one later. I dunno, we could go out somewhere, and ...” he gnawed his lower lip. “I bought chestnuts so we could roast them.”

That silenced them all – even Oikawa – although Kuroo opened his mouth to speak, only to shut it when Morisuke glared at him.

“Not at all awkward then,” Suga said and mouthed him a ‘sorry.’

“Don’t mind.” Daichi replied, then delved back into the bag. “Present two, is this.”

“It’s...” Suga felt the packet. “It’s clothing, isn’t it? Something shrimp related, perhaps?”

“Maybe.”

 Suga slid his fingers under the tear in the paper, and pulled out a pair of gloves. Blue gloves with a sea creature knitted into them.

“Sorry, I couldn’t find shrimps because I left it a bit late, so you’ll have to make do with an octopus,” Daichi informed him.

“Why shrimps?” Lev asked.

“Ah, well, that’s a long story, Lev-kun,” Suga replied. “Many moons ago, I used to be taller than Daichi. Then he grew and I remained a ‘shrimp’. He’s never let me forget it.”

 “The way you’re always grabbin’ each other, I think an octopus is far more appropriate,” Kuroo muttered. Then he flapped his hand. “You guys are too cute, let’s ... uh ... leave ‘em alone, eh, fellas.”

The room emptied, Asahi helping Kuroo usher them all away, until it was just the pair of them left, both still on the floor, Suga half hidden by the sofa.

“Present three,” Daichi whispered.

“You didn’t have to do this all,” Suga murmured. “Really, you shouldn’t have.”

“After you made all this effort for me,” Daichi replied. “The tree, the decorations, the mistletoe. Even those horrible candles. It was all for me, Suga, and you didn’t have to, you know that?”

“I _did_ have to,” Suga said. “I needed to. It was ... I wanted ... ”

“Open your last present, Sug.”

With trembling fingers, Daichi handed over an envelope. Suga stared at it, took a breath and then slit it open, pulling out the folded paper. “What is this?”

“Read it.”

He frowned. “It’s -  Oh, thanks a bunch! Cookery lessons. Wow, Daichi, that’s ... uh ... what the -”

“For both of us!” Daichi exclaimed, catching Suga’s hand before the punch he’d aimed his way made contact. “In our names, Suga, okay. Something for us to do _together_ because fuck knows I need it if Kuroo’s better at scrambled egg than I am.” His hands moved to cup Suga’s face. “For us. _Next_ year.”

There was a silence, Suga staring into his eyes, still not quite understanding, or not admitting to anything. But Daichi knew now was the time to push it.

“I’m going back to Miyagi for my birthday and New Year because I _have_ to, Suga. I wouldn’t go at all, except my grandma’s there. It’s a duty visit above everything.”

Suga said nothing, but his eyes were shining.

“I would rather stay here,” Daichi persisted, desperate to convince because now he could see the real fear in Suga’s eyes, the ghost that had been haunting him, driving him, eating away at him. “I want to celebrate every birthday the way I’ve done since I turned sixteen. With you. But I can’t this year.”

“I know,” Suga said. He turned his face slightly, nipping Daichi’s thumb. “I know you have to go back. They’re your family. And after summer ended so disastrously, you need to make some form of peace with them. It’s just ...” He sniffled. “Because we might never celebrate your birthday together again, I decided Christmas could be ours. Something _we’d_ celebrate.” He laughed softly. “It didn’t really work out how I planned. We were supposed to be alone, for one thing, and I’d have liked it to snow. I had this idea we’d go for a walk, and throw snowballs and kiss under the stars. Or just stay in and snuggle up together.” Surreptitiously he wiped his eye. “I wanted it to be memorable.”

“It will be,” Daichi muttered. “It _is_.”

“So you’d want to come back,” Suga finished.

“Dumbass,” Daichi chided. “Of course I’m coming back.”

Laughter from the kitchen lilted towards them, the sound of a conversation occurring without them because they weren’t missed. Daichi stretched out his hand, closed the lounge door and then pulled Suga onto him. His hands reached around the jut of his hips as he tugged him closer.

“I ... um ... kind of ... might have lied a bit about the coal,” he muttered.

“I kind of thought you were,” Suga replied, and smirked. “It’s so much fun watching you blush, Dai. You knew about the naughty and nice thing, huh?”

He nodded. “It did start with me wanting to build you a fire, and I have got some chestnuts.  So later, we could go out, find somewhere to make a bonfire, or ...”

“Or what?” Suga’s face flickered from uncertainty to pleasure.

Kissing him on the mouth, parting Suga’s lips with his tongue, Daichi pressed his body into Suga. “We could go to bed,” he whispered. “And ... uh ... try and work out which of us deserves the coal.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“You complaining?”

“Never. It’s just...” Suga said, and touched his forehead to Daichi’s, “despite all my plans, I ... um ... don’t have a present for you. I meant to. I’ve ordered something, but ... uh ... it’s not here. And I kind of thought it didn’t matter because it would be embarrassing to give you something if you had nothing to give back.”

Daichi chuckled and let his fingers slide down Suga’s arse delighting in its curve and softness.

“I’ve got everything I want for Christmas right here with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much if you've stuck with this. April 28th and finally the Christmas fic is finished. -sigh-
> 
> References to Suga's hips and arse brought to you courtesy of Noemi.


End file.
